Reflections

Reflections of a tear stained face.

Looks back at the station, haunted.

Left is the lost soul without grace.

Unwanted.

No more is the door open, sad.

Mascara, trails, hidden lines.

Searching for a direction, feeling bad.

Trembling lips she tries to confine.

Grace less, forlorn, face less.

World without charge.

Chard at heart, and nameless.

Visions of  emotions, enlarged.

She hurts, you hurt, she is you.

You are her, for you both feel

as one in the same.

One of many, countless few.

For sometimes to win you

must be prepared to lose.