Glass Kingdom

Talking to someone

you don't normally speak with

ever get that feeling

they stand with the "them"

the everyone else

who sees the white picket fences

instead of the featherheaded dandelions

that you're the odd one out

living in a palace of glass

whose wavering walls

make everything look different

or speak to the weird one

who's never quite on the same page

or maybe never even had

the same edition

then you get the suspicion

barest hint of a feeling

as you build bridges to discover

there was never a chasm to cross

the feeling of glass bridges spanning

glass palaces in glass worlds

everyone an emperor in their snowglobe

kingdom locked away behind the crystal

walls who stretch perspective just enough

to make their presence known

and you can't help but wonder who sees

the glass, who sees through it to our kernel

of self, who sees beyond to other kingdoms

without the wavering glass distorting their view

who can see the glass at all - do we know

it's there, or do we dream

did we build our walls or did they build us

are they a lens to focus us or a prism

to break us apart or a prison to escape

a dream we forgot we had