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