Walking my way down a straight corridor,
I spied a view that I had never seen before.
It was on a face which I knew too well
It was sitting, drooping, born from hell.
Upon the mask was a look of fear
Combined with surprise at my being there
As if in another situation we had been.
She seemed to be saying I was shoving knives in.
First reactions are always the truth
Because emotions are wild in their youth
As they age, they can all be guised
Behind fake smiles and averted eyes.
Though your blades fell heavy on me too,
I'm sorry, dear girl, that I've hurt you.
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