Skin pulls apart like sandwich bread.
Feet callous without spongy platforms wrapped with string.
Without plasticine armor, eyes attract sparks and shrapnel
    like magnetic pin cushions.
Falling backwards, your neck could strike the corner of a coffee table,
    crack through a single vertebra,
    and unreversibly slice your power cord.

You are basically glass,
    but have such nerve
        to pretend you’re smelted from iron.
You aren’t afraid to crack, splinter, explode into shards.
You’re happy, skipping through puddles, because you know that
    no matter how much it rains,
        you’ll never rust.