To the figure in the looking glass,
At whom I stared but,
Who did not stare back
There was no life on the other side,
Just a pale reflection left behind
Still my yearning, it isn’t real
Immune to sound, scent, taste and
Feel
Just an image I’m looking at
Not really me, I’m not that
Is this who the others see?
A shallow soul, and misery?
I see a man who’s broken down
A fallen king without his crown
I’ve been maimed,
I’m such a poor chump
It was only a game,
And it’s I, who’s been trumped
So I’ll strike like a python
And with all of my might
I’ll strike down this icon
And reign in the light
I can finally rest now, do you like what you see?
The end is right there, there's no hope for me
As my blood’s draining out onto the floor
I have opened and shut that last fated door
I go with peace now,
In search of sheer bliss
And I’ll take my last bow
As I near the abyss
There is no meaning to all of my strife,
But a bitter end, to a bitter life
About the Creator
K. M. James
If I attempted to sum my life up into a 240 character biography, I wouldn't sound all that interesting. Not that I am, but I'd like you to think so.
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