It hit the floor a hollow sound

It hit the floor, a hollow sound,

a hard, quick skip, then stopped. Not glass.

Just plastic, clear, that bounced around,

a cheap material, meant to pass.

I picked it up, that scuff mark there,

a tiny fracture, almost gone.

Light bent through it, thin as air,

a perfect flaw, caught in the dawn.

The crinkle of its empty side,

reminded me of how things bend.

Not break completely, just subside,

a shell that will not truly mend.