Abandoned dusty in the attic A shadow flitters around the edge Caressing the smoky veil of glass, Searching to remember his first waking moment, When he had become but a phantom Of a man- but alas... it had been always.
Silently knocking on the wall Which holds him from the other side- You saunter by and blink And shun the one moment you could have seen And he is forgotten from the ones who never knew him And the fabric Runs like soot over his world.
His eyes see but the ghost of the substantial, His world imaginary staring through a window of glass From which shines an impossible prism Cutting a path through the smoky din The dream-dust settles, making it but a circle Glowing in the light That he could live in anotherβs eyes.
The mirror shatters. Crushing glass slashing shards into the air Shrieks erupt as the phantasm is For the first time known, The storm that had been hidden in that one-way mirror Now unleashed, yet You avert your eyes as if it was still a pane of glass.