The sky is bright blue.
Mesmerising.

The air is fresh and clean.
Beautiful.

This could all be a dream, but, it seems it's not.
As his nightmares have become his dreams.

Though, the pleasant picture fades to black, never to be seen again.

Cold, moist wind, blowing in all directions.
Horrible.

Blackness stained under fingernails.
Putrid.

He battered his tiny fist to feel something.
Just to feel something.
His stomach painted violet.

The bathtub filled to the brim with lukewarm water.
His fingers prune immediately.
His tears like rain in the tub.

Sinking his head down, wishing to be reborn.
A glass child, breaking at the seams.