You walk barefoot on pieces of broken glass shattered at your feet. Never go out with strangers that can drop you without shoes in such a place. Hear infants crying, burned in fires they can't understand. A woman, crouched in pain, bruised, in a battered wrap, crushing your feet, begging and crawling. Fall. Feel the sharp glass cutting into your skin. Get up and run. Away, as far as possible. You sink deep in darkness, crawl in pain and suffering. Streams of red torrent out of an eventful stream, and still there you swim, bathed in the darkness you decay. Then nothing. Suffocating nothing, eating and scratching. Death. Taking no prisoners while it follows the Path, saying words that twist their minds. Its scythe cutting into soft flesh. Broken winged butterflies, blood drops. Glass remains waiting for your toes to cut the mist and land where they deem forbidden.
Wake up, nothing to be afraid of.
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