Looking through the window,

I see a face reflected

But who could she be?

This girl in my home.

This girl wearing my face.

This girl dreaming my dreams.

Trapped in a land of dreams,

for years my soul shut its window.

But I awoke to finally face,

and finally I reflected

that, although dreaming I might be,

it was time to find my home

So I find here a happy home

of which I could only dream.

I resent that cherished girl, though frail she may be.

My fate was sealed the night of the open window.

No mirrors nor surface reflected

their glamourous yet eerie faces

A foul trick life has played, forcing me to face

exile and return to my childhood home,

only to see reflected

my likeness. Do I still dream?

She, not I, sits poised at my window.

And I wonder just how this could be

In the meantime I was to be

property to the twisted faces,

secretly waiting for a window

of opportunity to find my way home.

I left that wyrd land of dreams,

shattering the pain it reflected

And now this insidious reflection

is the one they believe be-

longs. How could I ever dream

of my mother's and father's faces

welcoming their lost child home

when they believe that is I at the window?

Turning away from the window I reflected,

'Perhaps I best let things be.' Then it hit home.

My face will never be my own, so I slink back to that perverse dream