They*re looking at me through the windows.
Only mirrors to everyone else, but eyes for the lost souls of tourtured lives.
They watch with silent eyes.
They don*t know, I know they are there.
They watch me, I*m their only entertainment.
I see their weak and weary faces, their bloodshot eyes,
their pit for a nose, and melting lips of misery.
Only I can hear their tears that heavily fall from their misrable hearts.
Unable to live again.
They stay behind the wall of sorrow,
which I can not break to help.