Benumbed
Four solid walls surround me, silvered glass
Reflecting and refracting back and forth.
A dozen faces, all mine, staring back
In anger, or else haughty-eyed profiles,
Ineffable and distant, meet my eyes
In numbing gaze. Thus speaks, "O foolish child,
Stand down these misplaced glares; direct thine eyes
If thou may still claim sight, beyond this cage
Of silvered glass, of mirrored walls, of thine
Own face, reflected." Thus I spake, and soon
The face, the myriad faces shown around
Me split and fall; the self-glazed eyes film now
With fear, with pain, with anguish--dear-bought price
For life. But thou, oh soul, still long you for
Your shiny cage, the faces drawn in pain,
The eyes that world-wear glazed,
The life that you've exchanged?