The erie chill of a vacant face is as haunting as it is sad. We can see it from afar but like the tides of the sea we can do nothing to change it. All we can do is sit and watch as it gets further away.
This vacant face lacks the expression it once did, the fires that once danced and flourished with rising heat were left to dwindled to mere embers, now they’re nothing more than a pile of smouldering ashes. Grey, lifeless and barely warm.
That vacant face now lives life projecting an illusion that no one else can see through.
The truth is in whose who see the reflection, because the reflection is the truth, and what can be seen by the vacant face and only the vacant face.