Eggshells

I'm treading on the eggshells that you laid yesterday, I'm watching words but still these splinters can't be saved. Oh I really have honed the knack, Of missing the mark, Of treading the wrong track. But, please don't give up on me, Though I slip on the sharp side, Dance on the dark side, I want to be more than a motif, more than a token Of the eggshells that I have broken.