Glass Tower

Now, it is time for my introspection. It is time to lick my wound. It
wasn't as critical you may believe. It was deep but not fatal. I have
died long ago from the mortal wounds inflicted from my own hand, and
have been as a madman among your glass walls passing between and
brushing the shoulders of the sane of your world. You live in a glass
tower but it is glass and I can see into this tower. I see the
interactions. I look for a while and turn up my collar and feel the
sun on my back and I realize it warms me.

I am more bear than man: I am a madman.

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