The Mirror

I worked at being lost A thousand ways to disappear No bags to pack, no notes to leave No message on the mirror Trapped by welcome silence In the noise of self despair Leaving shouts of surrender Hanging in the air Maybe I was bored I usually don't know You can’t really notice Until it’s time to go Might have been tired I just couldn’t tell But the mirror was smiling And wishing me well Believers flock to empty places Fill them up with empty faces I’d rather toss a skipping stone Into a lake smooth and unknown Than stand in line and wait my turn While glories erupt and passions burn I had listened to music That flooded the roof Watched painters in the alley And poets on the stoops The singers had gone hoarse The artists nearly blind The magic of the poets Faded from their lines I was tired and bored Of people in the way It was easy to decide It was time to get away I caught a second wind The last ride out of hell After posing for a mirror That was wishing me well