Reaching out to touch the fading glass
Of memories that have wandered past,
I see myself reflected back but
It is not me. Not who I thought I was.
I see the faces and I hear the noise
But it is all distant. A hum of
Melancholy permeates through as I
Pick out the worst of days.
When I was not me but another,
Swapped with the person looking in.
Lily Portman 