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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2073786
In a hall of mirrors where each reflects a trait, you see yourself as you really are.
I pace in front of the first smoky mirror;
It suggests I’m dark, yet it couldn’t be clearer.
An aura of black and stormy clouds
Promises to follow me in torment, it vows
With every touch, tickle, or cry.
The past flashes like lightning in the sky.
A sufferer of PTSD keeps me on my toes
I attempt to focus and stand froze…
Where am I in the second mirror?
A tiny speck that I should find nearer
So distant, yet so close to reality,
the mirror suggests I’m far from free.
The third shows a disoriented me.
Like a life-sentenced escapee.
I’m perplexed and feeling adrift
like the weeds that are lifted
into the air and then whirl-winded
Into an irrelevant space
Where I can finally see my face
The fourth mirror knows me best.
I’m sick and tired of being blessed.
I’m a dark, distant, and disoriented
person. If anything, I’m demented.
But I’m deceitful. All of this represents
me in a few words, in a few contents.
Oh, hello, myself, how are you?
I then exit the room and bid myself adieu.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2073786-Four-skinned-Ds