I see a face before me
half hidden in the dark.
The face lingers in the shadows
hiding there, for a moment.
She looks at me, I look away.
Her face is hollow from decay.
Her eyes hold secrets she'll never tell,
it was a long time ago her passion fell.
Her face is gone, her personality,
this withered bride has now become me.

Sometimes I think I'm the only one
looking into the eyes of my opponents.
I see an artificial longing,
a sadness, undeserving of the
sympathy it attracts.
I look into my own eyes.
Where is the magnet?
Are people too blind to see
that because of their selfishness,
my magnetic strip has withered
and shriveled up into an endless pit
where the memories of lost loved ones and friends
struggle to stay alive, drowning.
Barely keeping afloat
under a tidal wave of tears.