Stone statues in a silent pose, they spin no tales,
And when my heart turns in anger, they offer no wails.
Before the mirror, eyes cast low, they sit and wait,
They inflict no wounds, nor do they seal my fate.
A whisper of loyalty, a hint of shame, my soul's in strife,
They cannot leave my heart, nor grace my sight, my life.
Whom shall I show the joy of death in separation's hold?
My love won't come to me, so I won't let my life unfold.
A perfect veil, behind the screen, they softly reside,
They do not vanish completely, nor do they step outside.
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