The people, so vain.
They stare in mirrors for hours.
For a second, if they looked down
They would see,
The Mirror's Shadow.
Just a few inches away
from their precious gaze.
Just a tilted head, a quick glance,
But it's forgotten.
Always present, never seen.
It does not long for touch,
For it knows the loving feel
Of dirty soles and tobacco spit.
Resting in its lovely home,
The unswept floor.
Head up high, or head hung low,
Nevertheless, you're still invisible.
When all light is gone, seek solace in the dark.
Return where you belong,
In the cold void.