Reflections

I can no more see the broken glasses
No more the fear of breaking them.
They are hidden where none can find,
The chambers of the dark den.

When the lights come back,
I delve into the past.
I cry over the weak mind,
The then, weak mind.

I pity the existence,
Whose pictures are engraved on my walls.
They stand by and watch,
Where the new girl might run.

I don’t want to see behind the pensive smiles.
I don’t care anymore for them.
They are hidden where none can find,
The chambers of the dark den.