Infected Doll

when the hand reads 7:30
and your night begins to sink
in the short but faster fall
anxious but calm retort
to a mirror that frames your face
baring the finest swell
when the day begins to break
like the tears that run across your cheek
stand straight and imagine you then
in the things and the way they could have been
when the thoughts they race across your chin
here in the Neverend
-coheed