It's safe to stand beside yourself.
No one's home, the door is locked,
And all your friends are on permanent holiday.
Just step outside your fragile shell,
If only for a moment,
And discover what the world sees.
It's okay to cry when you see it.
The human shell is ugly and hollow,
Like a tightly sealed jar.
The jar is sad, clear and undesirable.
It's nothing but a brittle piece of glass.
It doesn't feel, care or think.
It can't touch or hold.
It can't even move on its own.
It can only wander through existence
With the aid of a guiding hand.
This cold, dependent thing
Can fall and shatter in an instant.
It's good to stand beside yourself.
You see what he sees, what she sees,
What ill carcass the world sees.
In a hundred years, it will be gone.
It will decompose with a biting lack of grace.
It will wrinkle, shrivel and grey.
Hair will dry and crumble,
Skin will tighten and stretch over
Fragile, marrowless bones.
This immobile, gross figure
Bears the scars that it indirectly received.