September 5, 2010
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You stop where the cross roads meet
You can ehar the dirt being kicked up by some other person's feet
You see the stranger and smile
They grin back with jagged, yellow teeth that look like broken pieces of tile
You slowly approach with caution at hand
As they come closer, their skin is pale and in need of a tan
You try to shake hands but miss on the touch.
You feel your ckeeks burn hot and they start to blush
You're curious about what could've caused this error
But then the dark realization dawns on you that it's not skin you're touching
It's just a cold, flat mirror

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