a mirror's poor reflection
three feet ahead
the mirror reflects not of me
I stare into those eyes
and the body that homes them
I am here somewhere
until the flesh lays waste
I am concealed in this
with respect until the passing
I am a prisoner to this
as a bearer to succeed trials
that to which I am forced
but left open to such paths
what is seen from this mirror
three feet ahead
reflects not of me...at all
the mirror reflects not of me
I stare into those eyes
and the body that homes them
I am here somewhere
until the flesh lays waste
I am concealed in this
with respect until the passing
I am a prisoner to this
as a bearer to succeed trials
that to which I am forced
but left open to such paths
what is seen from this mirror
three feet ahead
reflects not of me...at all
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