Bewitched by the charm of haze, I walk through the minutiae of a maze; My eyes flutter in confusion, The bizzare thoughts bring on. The mist of my own mystery clears up; The enigma of emptiness steals control.
Actions become drunken slaves of Purpose; Sensibility fails to wipe the ruckus Off my mind. Strange it is, stranger it becomes; Darkness goes deeper than black, I rejoice in the colours that I lack. I wish this moment never fades, I hope I never see the lights again.
The face tells a beautiful story, A fantastical lie That reflections care to ignore. Fairytales decompose into cheap articles On trampled newspapers. Society screams, people shout, The mirror stands tall, Notices the unnoticeable, Predicts the unpredictable, Surmises hidden predicaments And chooses to put a check On reflections, Only for those Who are blinded by the sins Of their deed, The craving of their famished souls. Some choose to see The enthralling beauty And set aside the rasping truth. The rest become the mirror themselves With their faces made of glass And silver coating on their hearts, To make sure that The reflections never reach them.