| Rerun of Episode #212 Tinkle of glitter glass
I shatter the mirror of myself
And as I peer at the destruction
The burning hair smells faintly of sandlewood
Mostly of grief
Fortune has spun a tangled web
Repeating stories year after barren year
Changing actors and setting
But the caress of the space is the same
Just darker as the layers pile higher
Sipping slipping elixir
He caresses the hole burned in his palm
Not half the size of the hole in his heart
Through which slide the last strands
Of hope gone dry as straw
When we are gone
The story will be continued by ghosts
Limber shadows playing through the air
Dodging sunlight reflected off new ivory towers
Longing to blend into the night
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