You looked into your one eyes.
You saw your own reflection and it was perfect.
You walked with yourself, everywhere you went.
You brought no one with you, let no one in.
You held your own hand and you never let go.
You talked breifly to the outside world,
But you were your only friend.
You heard nothing but your own voice,
Felt nothing but the warm pressure of your hands pressed firmly together.
They would have left marks had you let go, but you never did.
You held on tight and no one ever took your place.
You lived in a world where only you mattered: where only the heat of your body kept you warm.
Where the light in your eyes danced only for you,
And when you sat alone, it never occurred to you that someone else was waiting for you to let go.
You never thought that perhaps, out there somewhere, was someone who loved you more than you loved yourself.
So you held on tight, deepening those scars that only you could see.
You clung to yourself, seeking comfort and sympathy.
You held on tight, but eventually, you too, had to let you go.