Insanity

Insanity stares through cracked lenses into a mirror
That holds the image of a raggedy old man
His eyes a twirling abyss of scattered thoughts

"Who am I?" he whispers in a quiet soliloquy
He no longer recognizes the reflection of a pruned face, 
Wrinkled by wasted years of talking to the wind

Insanity remembers a middle aged man named loneliness who once looked back at him from that mirror
Who had no one, but at least had himself
Through time, he lost himself
Becoming the man you avoid at bus stops,
Or alleyways, 

But he does not see you, 
Because he is inside his mind, 

Staring into a mirror.