I was watching Worlds
moving past and through my own.
They returned my intrigue with wariness,
if anything at all.

Why do they view me
with only misgiving
and indifference?

The glass's glare answered the question
before it could be posed,
signaling back to me
the separation it represents.

It was I who had declared myself as Other—
watching, as a spectator,
the Worlds of the Living.