Shadow Poetry

Deja Vu

I got in a fight

And broke my own nose

Could be nicer, I suppose


The mirror shattered

I woke up on the other side

Left my bloodied wings behind


Because I know

There’s mold behind the dry wall

Never capitulate when I fall


The decay keeps hiding

But I can smell it out

I don’t know what this is about


Pieces of glass in my way

I think I found your secret

Don’t know if I can keep it


You’re not who I thought

This reflection’s getting murky

I keep forgetting it’s me


I got in a fight

And broke my own hold

The duality never gets old


by Daphne Shadows

Stream of Consciousness

Mirrors

Do you ever feel like you’ve walked into a room filled with mirrors, from ceiling to floor, wall to wall?

It’s dark, nothing else is visible.

Like a dream.

Fog, mist… its crawling through the room in a muted charade. Keeping you ever in the dark. The very room you’re standing in, feet from the wall, close enough to touch, and yet you can’t see what’s there.

Only the  mirrors.

Just the mirrors.

Always the mirrors.

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