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second half of the sonnet, which does not make sense - ode to water bottle

 Time and time again friends come to me, they

glance at my shard, never wanting it, they

never know why I hold. The rest lost their way

but my shard stays. Stubborn beast. You commit


years of possession, yet only to flee

when I glance at some other like you, but

it's not you. 7 years and counting, free

me from the sounds of your failings and what


do I gain from grasping to my soul’s root

of rage, the shard’s half my noise, even mute!

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