on the other side of the glass

They come in at night when all is still

they scrape away and run and steal

my happiness and pleasure

They see it as their treasure.

Down, down, down they go into the hole

where time stops and no body knows

what ever did happen to her?

there is no magical, amazing cure

shes but a carcass of glass

that lays in bed, all but her relax.

they whisper and taunt at her expense

they paid a little more than six-pence

to a doctor who's more intelligent than all

gets a scalpel and out he calls "Kerrigan!

are you there? Can you hear me?" Once again

shes stuck in her own body, forever a slave

not even the toughest or the most brave

would dare go through what she deals

on a day to day basis that almost-no, does, steal

her away from the world and into her own

where there is no whispered looks or any condone 

In their voices of her loved ones, there are

no episodes or acting out. There, 

according to her; who fakes her way through,

There is only her and you.