Glowing in the sunlight,

so bright, so happy, so free.

So full of promise.

The glass children stand.

Perfect, frozen smiles,

glassy, vacant eyes.

The glass children pose,

enormous and clean,

but on the inside, they are small and dirty.

The glass children crumble and weep away from the watchful eyes of passing strangers.

Their insides damaged and twisted,

tiny, crystalline tears locked deep inside.

The glass children leap, twisting and twirling,

morphing their bodies into impossible shapes.

They bend over backwards,

only to tip over and break.

The glass children scream, drowning above water,

sinking farther and farther,

down

down

down.

Until they hit the bottom

Where they stand, smiling and waving for the fish and the crabs.

Cracked, missing parts, covered in debris.

But they still smile.

Still put on a show.

Becuase glass children are made to perform.