Don’t pick a fight with a boy made of glass

Word around the street is a new kid’s in town 
He’s already a boy of great renown 
Apparently he beats anyone black and blue 
If you’re not careful, his next target could be you! 

Rumor has it he’s made of glass 
Cuts his opponents up like grass  
Nobody picks a fight with him anymore 
lest you want blood leaking out of every pore

Staring you down, his widened eyes pellucid 
He slowly raises his glass fists 
Before they’re painted in red fluid
And blood runs down your wrists 

It hurts more for me than it does for you
With hands of glass I shatter too
My knuckles break against your nose
I’d rather you dodged my throws 

With every fight won
I’m left picking up the shards 
Does it look like I think this is fun? 
When you tell mommy, send my regards 

If they manage to land a hit
His clear skin cracks 
Powerful enough and it’ll split 
like cleaved with an axe

But he never stops his attacks 
No matter how forceful the impacts
His glass body is used to breaking 
and he’s very good at faking  

As glass shards pierce into someone’s cheeks 
The pieces might reflect his face 
Bloody streaks on a fractured space   
and then the bleeding boy shrieks