You say you're in a funhouse,

With all the not-so-fun distorted mirrors,

The lying, twisted versions of the reflections they hold.

I see you looking through a crystal ball,

But not to the future,

To the past.

I see you combing through the suffering,

The insomnia, the tragedy.

Reminders of your love affairs,

Not just the ones with razors,

Brass knuckles, the bottle of vodka in your mom's liquor cabinet.

And you carry it with you,

The debilitating hindsight,

Through the halls,the rooms, and the courtyard,

And I watch with horror and slight trepidation,

At this ticking time-bomb,

That's showing me, no telling me,

That its self-destruct is not too far away.

And I want to take you by the shoulders and shake,

I want to tell you that

Scars remind us of where we've been,

They don't dictate where we're going.

And I've heard it all before,

I know all the excuses.

I know what it feels like to cry a thousand rivers,

To be caught in the current of your own tears.

But you have to start swimming to shore.

I want to be your life preserver,

But how can I pull you from the depths,

Without your hand in mine?

Don't tell me that you're trying.

Trying is an excuse for those who've given up hope,

Any chance of salvation.

And I'd go blind,

I'd swim through a sea of electric eels,

I'd walk under a ladder on Friday the 13th,

Before I let that happen to you.

Because you have something I've never seen before -

Fearlessness.

Talent.

A chance.

A chance to break your bonds,

To escape your enslavement to this entity,

That keeps fogging up your mirror,

Your one way to see what I see.

And I know 12 steps won't be enough,

We need more like 1200.

But take a step.

Start with your reflection,

And pick up a looking glass.