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The mourner.
You lean forward to open the door
And there you are.
Caught in the briefest moment.
Sadness reflected in glass
Is a pane to far.
That mirror image of truth
That lets you truly see ,
Hiding nothing but showing all.
Feelings bounced back of the sands
Of your time
To this very moment.
You look old.
Old and done.
The black door closes
And your double is gone,
The car slowly drives off.
The cemetery is cold.
Reality is a pain to far.
