The Mirror

I've never seen you look so hollow,
As you look over your broken frame.
The bruises will soon be yellow,
And the skin will once again be the same.

No scars that can be seen,
As you grip the mirror handle.
But it's always there left in your dream,
After you blow out the night stand candle.

There's a scar left on your soul,
Always where you can feel it.
You never fit right in that mold,
So they left you in the grit.

Now you turn away from me,
As I leave the mirror too.
Nothing more left here to see,
In the morning I will look and find you.