I yearn for what I cannot reach,
I see a flower reflected in a mirror,
Reaching out to grab would only be considered an inutile move,
For what cannot be reached can only be dreamed.
I saw the moon looking down upon me whilst examining the river,
How it daunted me that I could never reach.
How you, my own mother, haunt me in the ways I cannot reach you and you cannot reach me.
It'll always be someone's end of the stick.
