Do You Know the Girl Who Lives in Delusion?

The Girl Who Lives in Delusion

Do you know the girl who lives in delusion,
her castle built high, high in the clouds of confusion?
She dreams she can hold a handful of light,
but her fingers grasp shadows that slip slowly out of sight.

Do you know the girl who paints on her face,
with colors she borrows to leave no trace
of the cracks in her heart or the lines in her mind,
or the truth she avoids that is tangled and blind?

In a kingdom of maybe, she crowned herself queen,
her throne made of whispers, her gown evergreen.
Do you know the girl who longs to be free and real,
but drifts through dreams she can barely even feel?

Do you know the girl who lives in delusion?
She builds every wall, every bright, grand illusion-
weaving her lies like silk spun from air,
each thread a comfort, each falsehood a prayer.

And if she's delusion, then what am I?
A watcher, a shadow, a ghost drifting on by,
or maybe I'm fusion-a flicker, a flame,
another mirage that she tried to name.
A whisper of her wanting, a breath of her doubt,
the part of her longing she can't live without.

Do you know the girl who searches the mirrored glass,
praying her dreams might someday come to pass?
She reaches out slowly, her hand meets mine,
and I feel the cold chill of the glass's thin, thin line.

Did you know the girl who lived in delusion?
I thought I knew her-I thought I was sure.
But here in the mirror, our fingers entwine,
and I see in her eyes the same shadow, a glimmer, a scar,
a trace of the battles that shaped who we are.

Her castle, her kingdom, all figments and lies,
a world built on wishes dissolving in sighs,
heavy with sadness, yet light as the breeze,
scattering softly like falling autumn leaves.

Did you know the girl who dreamed she was free?
I know her now-she's staring back at me.