Glasshouse

I can see you in your glasshouse

Sitting high above the hill

It’s precarious and tilted

A sign “NO STONES!” above the sill

It appears so dark and frigid

Opposing the sun filled sky

Like a mirror it casts reflections

Of those who pass it by

You make haste towards the window

Then grapple at the lock within

Clamouring and cursing

Flashing a dubious grin

I wait to see that you’re OK

As you release your vehement tones

When I realize you have hit me

With a barrage of painful stones

I pick them up one by one

Noticing they are crumbly and gray

I also see on every stone

All the words you want to say

I look up and see you standing proud

As I drop them to the dirt

I know these words are not for me

Yet I can’t help feeling hurt

I stand up tall and dust myself

Then crush them one by one

I see you look in horrored shock

You can’t believe what I have done

Then I wave and smile and carry on

Once there’re broken I am free

I know your stones are for anyone…

Well… anyone but me