Glass

Glass

Invisible boundary
between me and the ground.
Wine to the taste and blood to the bound.
Ugly clones to stare back at,
Pretty clones who point and laugh,
all the more reason to laugh along.
Sometimes though it's not that easy,
to shatter the surface with a witty comeback,
and a cold glare.
The sharp cold screams that I keep going.
The beating cold lets me know my scruples,
and the Doubt,
and the Reflection,
as well as Existence.
All Demons,
All of them gasoline in my invertedness.
Mirrored images or ivory monsters,
Scars on my Heart,
and my Skin,
and my Will.
Cold againts the wind,
it shields the leaking emotions,
coming from my windows,
eyes they say to the outside.