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Staring at my reflection, but she will not look at me,
Maybe she knows something that I’m too blind to see.
That look of disappointment for the things I haven’t done,
Bitter sweet resentment for what I’ve now become.

She aspired to be better than what stares at her right now
A world of opportunity that this reflection won’t allow.
The hopes and dreams she harboured, but now it’s all too late
Now all her secret ambitions rest in the hands of fate.

The never ending rat race seems to be just a silly game,
Doing as everyone else, so that we all end up the same.
Her naive ideas are empty because life has other plans
Her fragile future is balanced in my weak and shaking hands.

In a puff of smoke I abandon her ever scornful glare
The pressure of expectation is all too much to bear.
Crawling along the bottom where judgment is reserved
Reality is but an illusion, so sit back and observe.

She warned me of the dangers this road would lead me to
Avoiding life itself would surely never see me through.
The prospects slowly dwindle like the fickle hands of time
The burdening responsibility I never wanted to be mine.


A conflicted soul is torn by the things it cannot see,
Jekyll and Hyde rage defiantly in the darkest part of me.
Assessing two perspectives that merge themselves as one
Now I’m left here wondering which soul I have become.

Trying to see my reflection, but finding nothing there
Maybe she’s given up and found her ‘self’ elsewhere.
That gentle part of me has finally given up the ghost
And now I’m stuck with me, the one that I fear most.

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