Mirror

Sometimes when thou art crying, it is the only true feeling thy body can express. But what feeling are my tears expressing? Sadness, isolation, loneliness—the three combined? That sensation of something missing—thy heart? Thyself? What was lost in those ages thou wert hiding? Even if happiness and calm strike, there is still the coldness of those who watch and turn their faces, unable to accept thee. Even when hope doth caress thy cheeks softly, and the warm touch of thy tears drowns thy breath—sobbing, screaming, tearing down thy lungs and body, which are on fire with rage and desperation—thou keepest silence, hoping for approval and love. Thy mind is leaking, and thy heart hath just ceased its rhythm, concealing one last pleasure: calm, finally calm.