Out of the corner of my eye,
I see an image of my face in a window.
The image whispers,
Telling me to take a closer look -
Like a film, I see image after images of the past -
That has made the girl staring back.
People I had forgotten, People I had hurt,
People I loved, People who had hurt me,
All staring back - with my face in the front.
I try to runaway
But the whispers have turned to screams,
Asking me "why"
Why to everything I have done -
The same questions I have never stopped asking myself.