There is smoke

There is smoke

Curling

In the mirror

A serious blind

Masking the truth

Of a deathbed confession

Hiding the light

Side of life

In the folds of

A curtain

Where the mean

Spirits lie

Through their teeth

About a passage

Out of here

It is not this way

Or that

Which you seek,

To find

Is to keep

The hopefulness alive

In the face

Of all

The brickbats thrown

Of which there

Are many

Too closely aimed

By seasoned veterans

Of an old fight

For survival

They are mirrored

In the frown

Of your reflection

The fester of past deeds

Written

In blood

Across frosted glass

Fading

Into the ages

To be misread

Though

Never forgotten.