Silver coated glass
Painted to see reflections
Of one's self; one's soul
But opposite, reversed
So interesting, set against itself
But so utterly, perfectly backwards
One always sees what they want to see
That perfect reflection on glass
Light goes in and is lost
Not all, or maybe it is
Even light retreats in fear
That little bit lost to the other side
Stapled against the wall
Nothing ever disturbs it
But the evidence of battles
Come with time, months and years
Scars in the silvered back
Where no fingers touch
Show something from otherwhere
Something trying, clawing
That other place, where you live
On the other side, touching the glass
Dreams are real there, cut and tear
Only your face looks back so real
Look real close at your own eyes
There is always a hint of something
Not so real, a sadness reflecting back
The reflection of a reflection
Always looking back, mimicking
Almost perfectly, never perfect
The light is never right
Around the edges, reality is lost
Just out of sight, behind that door
Nightmares lurking, unsafe, breathing
Behind your back, while combing hair
A bit of something is there
Not quite reflected back
Light comes through that glass
Bringing you through
Not letting all back
Such is life, realities
Painted silver on glass
Taking your soul
Tricks on the mind
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 10:23 PM UTC
Silver coated glass
Painted to see reflections
Of one's self; one's soul
But opposite, reversed
So interesting, set against itself
But so utterly, perfectly backwards
One always sees what they want to see
That perfect reflection on glass
Light goes in and is lost
Not all, or maybe it is
Even light retreats in fear
That little bit lost to the other side
Stapled against the wall
Nothing ever disturbs it
But the evidence of battles
Come with time, months and years
Scars in the silvered back
Where no fingers touch
Show something from otherwhere
Something trying, clawing
That other place, where you live
On the other side, touching the glass
Dreams are real there, cut and tear
Only your face looks back so real
Look real close at your own eyes
There is always a hint of something
Not so real, a sadness reflecting back
The reflection of a reflection
Always looking back, mimicking
Almost perfectly, never perfect
The light is never right
Around the edges, reality is lost
Just out of sight, behind that door
Nightmares lurking, unsafe, breathing
Behind your back, while combing hair
A bit of something is there
Not quite reflected back
Light comes through that glass
Bringing you through
Not letting all back
Such is life, realities
Painted silver on glass
Taking your soul
Tricks on the mind
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