My heart is made of glass
Even with steady hands
You could not Hold it still-
held ever so Gent-ly
cracks Formed where your
Fin-gers gr-az-ed
So close to me it hurt
   Falling
             Slowly
                        All because
                                      The glass-
                                                     Cut
                                                                Your
                                                                            Fingers

Savannah Moss is from the small town of Zanesville, Ohio. She is a freshman. She plans
to major in anthropology and minor in art history. She loves to travel, read, play the flute,
and study classic literature.