This shattered mirrors' kaleidascope.
Light shines up from pieces on the floor.
Illuminating angles and seams.
A different view could be what I need.
Something in the attic, it bleeds, revealing these reflections of me.
Something in the attic, it screams, how could you abandon your dreams?
Cold and frozen, thawed out and broken.
These reflections of me.
Caught between the rocks and the tide.
Where the waves hit the shore and they cut like a knife.
Carve away to reveal what lies underneath.
Shed skin to remember how to breathe.
(spoken word verse)
These reflections of me, these different versions of the same damn person that people meet, but walk away from with different impressions, will always be.
No one ever really changes who they are at their core, at the epicenter of their existence, we just change our minds.
Although, the heart and the mind, sometimes, try and coincide, the never truely work together.
They can never truely act as one.
Everything we experience as we pass through the gauntlet of time will augment the base foundation.
Adding to, or taking away from what we have endured last, leaving only the layers we feel we need at that time.
Some we remember and some we don't, some we understand and some we won't.
Where ever I go, if ever we meet, the impression you get's a reflection of me.
Something in the water, it bleeds, drowning old reflections of me.
Something in the water, it screams, cast away and forgotten dreams.
Jaded and neglected, shunned and disrespected.