Friday, February 16, 2024

Bad Poetry: Mirror

 

There are lines and hairs

And wrinkles around stares

Rimmed with black pits

Of unsleeping darkness

Keeping us awake

As we shuffle through

Our rancid stew

Of memories traded and faded

And bladed until the pieces

Refuse to fit together.

When I look in the mirror

I see myself sleeping in the daytime.

I don't see a stranger but I see

Someone else who is turning 

Into me

Piece by 

Piece by

Piece.

 

 

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