The Magician Whose Flesh Transformed to Glass
Once upon a midnight rhyme
There was a magician whose flesh transformed to glass
So come and listen to the story of mine
Of how perfect compatibility is not always up to the task
We start our tale in a lab
Most fitting for our modern wizard
Filled with chemicals and burners and flasks
Where there is only the sound of work to be heard
Our sorcerer has spent her life perfecting her craft
Hours of study and monotony and research
All to ensure that when there is a problem to draft
It is to her that everyone will be referred
For it is within her knowledge that the answers lie
The answer to every flighty and weighty problem
She is even certain that if she were to die
She could find a way to stop the reaper's come
Fitting then, that this is the impossible task she is faced with
Stopping the advance of a death that is highly undeserved
Left to chase what others believe to be legend and myth
But from her mind and hands, she was sure, a cure she would birth
Quartz and silicon, ground into grains
Compounds and elements she knows so well
Now if only she could find a way to stop the child's pains
This is the matter upon which her thoughts dwell
Every waking moment the witch is consumed with need
She must prove that she was not come to in error
Everyone that comes to her has always left her free
And that she might fail in this instance is her terror
The case of this child is one sure to confuse and confound
But the warlock does not give up so easily
For her success, the enchantress was sure to be crowned
This is what she focuses on in all earnesty
She does not care for the mother whose voice is tight with tears
Or for the child himself that withers and wastes
To her, their tragedy is quaint and mere
She must only be the one to crack the case
It is in the midst of her fervored work
That the magician notices something strange and peculiar
At first she finds it only to be an item to irk
Until she realizes it is quite familiar
For instead of grains of sand, her hands had transformed to glass
And further inspection confirmed that it had spread
So that the entirety of her bodily mass
Was shiny, translucent, and dead
It was nothing more fantastic than the very case she worked on
Maybe, even, it was some type of spreading infection
Onto her hands, gloves she donned
And resumed her work without hesitation
As time passed she realized the transformation to be perfect
For her body was now a tool to function in her laboratory
She mused to herself that if only she was magnetic
Would this be the most wonderful addition to her story
As it was, she found the transmutation of her flesh to be most helpful
And she threw herself into work with vigor renewed
For she could not fail now, as long as she was careful
And proved to be cautious with her body and shrewd
But arrogance is no substitute for reality
So that when of the boy's demise she heard
The magician cried, "No, that can't be!"
And for weeks more she continued to search
Until one day, it all came crashing to an end
Quite literally, as the magician in a tired stupor
Slipped on an errant spill and was sent
Into nothingness, into was, had been, were
The magician whose flesh transformed to glass
Laid shattered across her laboratory floor
Her demise had been perfectly shaped by her past
She could play god no more
