The dim reflection of that old dusky mirror, is that what I'd look like as a ghost?


A single flower growing in a sea of grass.
Sometimes that's what life feels like.
A loner, a beauty, but all alone.

A prick on a thorn bush, a single sharp pain, there and then gone.
A single drop of blood, there, and then gone.


So many thoughts in my head. Why is my brain functioning in such an observing way?
Noticing detail, coming up with beautiful words in my own head.
I didn't know I was capable.
Make it stop. I can't get them all out, and then I forget. Maybe it'd be better if they weren't there at all.

I can see my reflection in his eyes.
A boy once said to me that it reflects innocence, having a mirroring gloss on your eyes.
Does that mean that boy still has some innocence left in him?