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.