Hark! The glass children, we come

Atop our steeds of stick and blood

Faces set like stone -

If stone were clear and ethereal

Expressionless;

Haunted by death, defeat

Crushed under the black sky's weight

Where stars like enemy eyes glare down

Watching, cackling; hatred Clean

and Clear like stone

Like stone, the glass -

The children come


We watch your face; terror stark

Written like text in bold black print

Black - no, red - red like blood

Stick and blood, the steeds, the stones

Stone like glass

Fear cold as brass

On your faces, stuck


What you fear is not our

Glass hands, cracked

Nor glass feet, chipped

Nor glass hearts, shattered

Under the crushing weight

Of your stony sky of stares

The gasp - the brass! Agony Clean

And Clear, the blood - like ice

The glass

Shattered - no! What scares you so

Is that in our eerie, snaggle-toothed

Grimace you see - not

Stick, nor stone, nor blood

Nor ice, nor brass, but in the glass

Yourself

Cracked