Love is a sickness and I may be clinical
Even without a point of reflection
Extending further, further still
The echo breaks my feelings into shards of glass
Frightening me dearly, the sharpness nauseating
Paling energy and it’d be refreshing to cry
             But weakness shames in this alleyway of
              fiends
And my friends are angels, I cannot grasp
     Glimmering pasts and greeted headings
  These corporate meanderings prescribed
                                         surely is no cure
Because these cruelties extend to all possibilities
   And uglies the flower, the exquisite of being
   Why you leave.. The little self leads
             Endless mirrors pushing you back