i've been looking out this window forever it seems. i've tried to pry my pieces out of the piercing shardes of glass, but it hurts too much you see. i cannot free myself from my encaptured state, forever i am to look.
many come to admire my window, a book of the greatest poems could evolve from the writings on my window. granted i have many admirerers, and yet i have my jury to the side. am i guilty of living my life in vain? or am i innocent, just a mere character in lifes bloody game?
i have yet to hear the verdict of my own sentencing. and so here i wait.
but you all still come with your faces of wonder. am i that great of a mystery? i'm just a window; i'm not different then your own. yet you still come and you still whisper praises as if no ones heard them. i have heard them my lovely one.
i'll be here when the sun rises tomorrow, and i'll greet it with the same wince of pain. yet i'll keep looking, trying to find the key to my past. till i hear those words, 'And the verdict is..'