I was warned not to throw things at the television;
the people on the inside will not return the favor.
They did not respond when I shouted their names,
or when elfin fingers tapped on their glass.

How can people look and act as I do,
yet exist entirely somewhere else?
It was impossible yet possible,
when my image reflected of theirs.

Some were the kind of the coloring book,
Colors melting together like crayons in the car.
Faces drawn on with ideas not their own.
Unaware of their capture inside the box.

The others were cognizant in another dimension,
and acted as if there was no one watching.
Addition of music with out a concert,
made complete with omnipresent laughter

When they said that the TV was broken
I did not understand the reason why.
There were no escapees of the Magic Mirror Box.
Just myself watching them across the room.