I sit in a single chair
In my house of clear glass walls.
My hands folded over a note in my lap
I keep my head bowed.
Black covers the room all around me for miles
Yet small hints of light reflect off the glass
The stars shine through my glass roof,
But I do not look up to see them
I keep my head bowed.
I clasp the note with one hand and let it crumple into a small ball
The edges of the paper pierce into my skin
I quietly smooth it out
I read the inked words in the dark
Knowing them by heart
From the corner of my eye I see a slim line of bright light
The light suddenly begins to creep into the glass room and I look up.
The sun is rising over the snow-capped mountains
Outside of my glass prison.
I can now see the field around me
I am there and I can see and it is beautiful
I stand and walk to the wall in front of me.
The note flutters from my hands and
I let it fall to the ground.
I put one hand against the once cold glass,
Now warm from the suns rays
I look at myself in the reflection
And look past my eyes at the coming dawn
I raise my other hand into a fist and smash it hard against the glass.
Blood runs hot from my mangled hand as the house shatters
Like a fast ripple in a pond
The air is full of falling glass,
Each shard refracting and redirecting the morning's light.
The fresh air fills my lungs and I smirk at the sun
I’m gone
The house is just many fragments of broken grass
Around a note that says
"Goodbye cruel world."