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Glass People

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You stand upon a platform
Entombed in stark white light
Sinewy arms uplifted to cry to God;
Held up to blaspheme his name
And the light from heaven shines down,
Illuminating the pale facets of your face
As your jaw cries out to waken sleeping man.

From afar I watch, enraptured and enthralled
As you glide, appeal, destroy a thousand nameless faces.
From this I cannot turn
And instead I float, I flit, I fly to circle about your head
And admire your lovely face.

And then to me you gaze and smile,
Your grin gracing your face to touch your eyes
As your lips caress the air
Forming waves that ripple across your ocean of admirers
Haunting and seducing their lucent, vacant souls.
But as I watch, the sound falters and sighs
And closer I come to see:
The cavern’s carpet is but dusty papers,
Filled with lines from songs, from plays, from time—
Ones you gather and repeat to ease your broken soul.

If I return across the stage, you shall forget my name;
Your smile was not meant for me,
But there was never need for it to be.
Still your lonely heart aches and yearns
For arms to hold and hands
to strip away the glass embedded in your face:
Shards silent and seething from the ancient mask you donned
To confine you to yourself.

You glance my way and the glass glimmers like the rain
And I wonder what you would be like
With the courage to tear the pieces from your face
And for your tears mingle with the blood
And darn your rotting heart.




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