One day, my colourful bubble burst,
Oh my! who would want to have me cursed?
I fell to the ground, the shimmering trace,
Of the bubbles’ colour still on my face.
The floor was rough and made of glass,
Unpolished, cutting, but shiny as brass,
And through the glass, you could faintly see,
The mirky land of reality.
Oh my! how pained I was that there,
Were no colours shimmering anywhere
With my face on the floor, unable to move,
I watched what happened under the glassy roof.
Distant pain rushed through my veins,
But not one of those physical pains
No, it was what came to be
Just a part of reality.
And so I saw my loved ones pass,
Under the ceiling made of glass
And I was still not in their view
Of misty grey and so pale blue
If I would bleed, would they not
Maybe due to the change, look up?
Their sky would be tainted by a blotch of red,
A stain, so little, over their heads
And so I lay on the sharp glass floor
Wishing there could be a door
To lead me to another place
Then here, painfully laid on my face
Forced to watch and forced to see
What was just a part of reality
Trapped in the middle, nowhere to go
Trapped in the horror of down below
Trapped in the distant memory
Of what life was in the bubble, dreamy and free
After a while, I moved my arm
To find an edge, to do some harm
So that their sky would be tainted by
A blotch of red, where I would die
So that I could get away from what would be
The destructive pain, reality