its a silent morning all is dark yet a pretty face reflects from the mirror there is a scar upon a wound a little tear that fills her eye she see anguish and a life filled with tourture but we dont know her life all we see is hidden lies eyes filled with mystery... the mirror refelects what ours dont see but still un aware that we are blind to the pain pretty objects will always remain even in denial emptiness there is nothing, no feeling,nor emotion blank feeling no hate or love or happy or sad just an empty plane no reflection no light no color or imagination just the feeling like something is missing cold drowsy unfulfilled life or something of this sort