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I don't believe what the mirror says,

What the window sees,

What the door handle feels.



I can not see what does not exist.

And I cannot breathe what does not roam

In the atmostphere.



I don't see the purpose in joy and pain,

In love and death - their worthlessness

The heart is only an empty hole

The soul is a detached shadow



When I dream the dreams

I'm cursed to remember,

It's my cup of world spilling

Into hopeless space.



Yet even if I dig deep to my lowest point,

I still won't hear what my mirror says,

Or even believe what my window sees.