Windowpane

Blank face in the windowpane

Made clear in seconds of light

Disappears and returns again

Counting hours, searching the night

Might be waiting for someone

Might be there for us to see

Might be in need of talking

Might be staring directly at me

Inside plays a lullaby

Slurred voice over children cries

On the inside

Haunting loneliness in the eye

Skin covering secret scars

His hand is waving a goodbye

There's no response or action returned

There is deep prejudice in me

Outshines all reasons inside

Given dreams, all ridden with pain

And projected unto the last