Breathing sickness unto glass Drawing interpretations while intact But windows shatter, As circles last White light shining through a prism Becoming nothing or chaos with "What a smile", is what they really should say Such dumb blankness full of meaning Staring back, unflinching, smiling Sitting still, staring at the same painting The feelings we have are ours alone, And in the end they shouldn't be touched. "What a smile", is what they really should say So be cautious of things we frame in the dead of the night An attempt to breach the disconnect in all the wrong ways, Instead we must create, And take the place of god