He stared into the mirror, broken & cracked in half. He turned to me with that rueful smile, & whispered that he can't be who I want him to be. He says he’s walking along a copper wire line, trying to balance between the what if's & the what could've beens. But he doesn't understand. He can't understand. There’s a crack in that plastic crown which teeters so precariously upon his straw like hair, & his throne of ice is melting, turning into an ocean which is drowning out everything he believes in. He has climbed the ladder, but there was nothing there. & Dearest, it’s a long way back down again.