Another quiet nightmare comes
to walk the world of men.
I look upon it and I wonder
why I see what I have been.
In this mirror, blank, reflecting,
showing worlds of backward hue
I can see those lifeless eyes
and mine, still seeing you.
What place have you within my life,
reflection with my form?
What part is played by clueless light
that such bleak shadows swarm?
Why watch, you foolish sinner?
Why stand and stare me down?
You know I live, not you--Now, speak:
why stand and stare me down?
How, taunt me with the blood you drew?
Your eyes can only jest.
How, turn you with your quiet gaze?
Your own hands you detest!
Perhaps I'll teach this leaden glass
to seem more civil, yet.
You see this stone? I'll split your smile--
I'll see you civil, yet!
And so pick up the stone and throw
and sudden find--alas--
that he, who taunted me, was real,
and I within the glass.