Higher and higher.

The greatest high of all,
is not being high at all.

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Who’s there?

There’s a space in the mirror
Where my reflection used to be
I don’t see anything familiar
I don’t see anything of me
I see a blurry, ghosted image;
His haunted eyes, they swell with sorrow
I wonder, will I find myself again,
Or will he still be here, tomorrow.