Photo by Михаил Секацкий on Unsplash
Beyond the glass, there is a corpse,
Alive in thought but dead in eyes,
If I move, the corpse copies me,
If I pretend, it can be my disguise.
Beyond the glass, there is a child,
Terrified, small, attacked and alone,
If I question him, the child just shrugs
And panics, longing to be grown.
Beyond the glass, there is hate,
On this side, there is still no escape.
I look in the glass and two holes stare back,
A shell that takes my shape.
Beyond the glass I see myself,
And I hate it.
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About the Creator
AJ Birt
History nerd who likes to live in a fictional world... also pretty gay.
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