Nytheone Matt

Limping down a mirrored corridor
Outside the sky and the trees bounce off the walls
Distorted and mystified, misty and hazy
Slightly crazed something starts to faze me
Everything reflected but my clothes and body?
Smoke surrounds as it leaves my lips
Sweat floods the ground, profusely drips
Steam rises up from the lines on my forehead
The wisps are duplicated, skin is dead
My hand held up to the cold glass
I press and the pressure is real I peel my palm off
The condensation stays on the glass
I can even see it’s replication last as long as it does
Kick a puddle then see it thrice
Footprints imprinted in peripheral sight
But no shoe, no sock, no lace
Am I real in this place but in the mirror world oddly absent?
The inventor erased but not the invent?
The effect of the intention but not the intent?
The structure held but not the cement?