That once whole glass is now torn to pieces— it's right there on the floor, for anyone to see, for everyone who look at its broken shards realize that not everything can be mended and put back into a piece just by words of apologies, and not everyone can walk past it and move on. There will be people who will stop, bring every pieces together, find each and every fragment— even those buried underneath the unforgiving earth. They might get hurt, they will bleed, and they will be on their knees.
But they won't be stopped— not when all these mirrors and glasses and windows have been crushed continuously without a thought. It's the time to pick it all up— remove the weapons that damage them, and rebuild.
This time, no matter what, surely.