Where did the magic go?

One minute it's there - in all it's perfect glory. Perfect, pristine, pure magic. Something that makes you see only beauty in our imperfect world. So magical it makes the morning dew sparkle like the most exquisite crystal.

Then like crystal, one misstep sends it crashing towards the ground and turns to a million pieces. And however you try to put it back together, you can't seem to find them all. And the ones that you find cut you so deep that crimson red drips on the cold, hard ground.

And like the morning dew, when the sun rises, it all disappears. Like it never happened.

But your scarred hands tell you another story.

Where did all the magic go?