Dim is the light. The kitchen is hollow. The clock on the wall starts to sway. I’m falling down In a circle of black , Where echoes have things they must say. The house is cold. Shadows like thoughts, Clawing the glass and making it cry. I tell all my secrets To these bare walls, They listen better than people...but why? Empty is the hall. Steps up on my nerves. Searching for myself In a faceless mirror, In the reflections That will trust me Never My heart is a scar, ripped apart, Beating but halfway. My voice has been torn, Like a grudge thrown away. And I’m an empty lighthouse again, Blinking at nothingness, numb, Calling for those Who never will come. All is quiet. All is distant. Snow is hiding the tracks, As if I myself Never Had really been.
