Like in a glass bubble, you spend your days. 

You laugh your energetic laugh, almost aggressive, and smile and play and hold my hand, yet like in a glass bubble you spend your days. 

I speak to you, sing to you, tell to you, yet the glass bubble where you spend your days muffles my words. How many go through the invisible and intangible barrier? How many reach you, untouched and undeformed? 

You speak to me, sing to me, say to you, yet the glass bubble where you spend your days seizes your words. How many go through the invisible and intangible barrier? How many reach me, untouched and undeformed? 

And I try to put them straight, and I get angry and desperate, because I want to help you out from the glass bubble you where you spend your days. 

I delude myself everything's fine, and lull myself in sweet lies. 

You too talked late... Three languages are just too many... He'll talk... He'll talk... He'll talk... 

Yet I feel like the Evil Stepmother and you remind a small, fearful critter, since like in a glass bubble you spend your days. 

Tell me, Joy and Gem, will we ever open a gap? Will we break the glass bubble where you spend your days?

This outbrust was written in December 2013.