To stand alone is a burden,
when wounded and weak,
I sway off kilter...
In this decandent hall of mirrors
Where every wall has my face,
I look to each one
and see a stranger standing in my place.
Where I am weak, she is strong.
Where I am sad, she laughs hard and long.
Each of these faces says the same
When none of them say who I am.
Look, you have fallen and hurt yourself,
I move to help you up when she does not.
A wounded look tells me you don't understand,
that I would hold out my hand, yet,
She turned around and ran.
To stand alone is such a burden,
when tired and cold,
I would just fall...
If she were not so determined to stand...
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