There's a window of glass, frosted at the tips,
It's invisible to others, but to me, it lives.
This barrier that rises, each month on end,
To separate logic from emotion, comprehension from thought.

"What's the matter? Just think happy thoughts."
"Count your blessings, consider all you've got."
"It's a holiday, a birthday, you're not to be sad."
"How selfish of you to lack a smile, ruin the fun we had."

And so it gets thicker, until there's nothing left to feel.
It's protecting while destroying, wearing until there's nothing to salvage.
In the days of the glass, each hour feels a day, each day a week.
All there is to be done, is lay there and breathe,
Anything more would risk a crack in the glass.
And a crack in the glass, would mean having to feel.