The jar, it is glass obviously.

I take a run at it before I strike with great force;

It throws me back with a beastly smile,
No forbearance, no remorse.

And it covers me entirely,

Like it has spurted out the earth and over me;
I try with my all, but It fails to move,
Like the storm surviving hundred year old tree.

No other eyes can see it,

I can see right through it unless it steams,
And the more my botheration grows,
Soon I'll outgrow and explode my way out it seems.

The jar, it is glass obviously,

But I carry it around like it is part of my anatomy;
And if it were dissected, analyzed and examined,
Maybe they will eventually diagnose the fault in me!