The glass has been getting empty drop by drop and you know that nothing more is there if waiting for a sundown on the beach the drowning of the sun wasn't the wait's worth...
You look down to your shadow and ask, "who I am?" not expecting an answer but you hear a whisper answering, "just less than nobody"...

The door opened and there he was,
angry eyes from a man who was old
waiting for “that” someone coming
peeling knuckles calling on the door,
he seemed familiar, looking at myself
I realized with dismay that there I was.

Not like the image from the mirror,
or of the man created, image of God,
because there wasn’t any mercy given
nor was expected a crumb of pardon,
a empty shell everybody trying to fill
with bad memories, but not with love.

What will you do if you were confronted
with yourself looking back from the door
that you were calling expecting someone
but not that, from sadness, angry world
enshrined inside the eyes of a stranger
knowing it’s you since you were born.

Turn around and retrace those past steps
and return to were happiness was hold,
where you face get to wear so many smiles
and eyes weren’t furiously tempestuous,
to where could had been someone waiting
and your years were so full of that hope.

But, when the door open what will you do
if the one answering the call...was you?