Waiting for that soul that mirrors my own. Maybe this constant wanting is my own vanity. The pretty and perfect side never had a real chance. So inside I reflect never wavering from that promise waiting on that soul that mirrors my own. This constant looking has caused me to notice things. Only a fool would waste a lifetime on the hopes of a far off chance. And in there lies the awful beauty trust in your inner voice. There are far off worse things at least this takes very little effort. Besides, watching the others they’re mostly void of written words. They communicate in little bursts through snapshots they talk. Perhaps my method is madness the doubters are wrong. I truly believe I’ll awake tomorrow and that person who mirrors my soul will ask of me, what’s taken you so long?