My feet walk over shattered glass, The shards slash at my scaly scarred skin with every step. Paper hangs limp from the walls, Curling like my spine as I hunch. As if my bedroom was in a snowglobe, Which an ecstatic toddler dropped, My paraplegic paradise concealed by a door left ajar. My bed, stripped of all love and life, Invitingly sends me away. I lie on the glass, Inside my own SICKENING SKULL And open my eyes to stare at my invisible attacker In my pristine room, which holds only me.