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
