On the wall I see a glimmer.
Is that hope? Faith or trust?
Or is merely floating dust?
Round and round, turning
Watching every angle, learning
That this body is a burden. A gift.
Thoughts and feelings, they shift
Around, they change again.
Reborn and reborn in vain
To try and get to That Person.
Sighing, nothing is for certain.
What is on the other side?
Of that pane, that pain of glass.
Will she stand up tall at last?
Throwing dresses across the room,
Shirts and ties hang in the gloom.
Slipping into pencil skirts.
Drawing a figure, how it hurts
To look towards the future,
Yet never pushing to meet her.
Always stuck in between
A reflection and a crime scene
Is blood on the glass or lipstick?
Guess the eyes will play a trick
When looking past the guise,
Staring back, a thousand cries.
On the floor, smashed inferior: