Surrounded by mirrors
Beholden not

A land of shiny mores
Betwixt selves

Are these all of me
Or others seeking to be?

To multiply so
Must be a need to show

To look at each other shamelessly
As if not torn asunder

Where left is right and right not so
As for the truth, how would you know?

If I were me, and only me
Then how could there be more and more
It must be them that steal some me
And then pretend that more can grow

They look to me, they look like me
But the glint, the flint, the greys not so
They say they follow me forever
A shard, a crack, a scratch – and its never

To build a world of mirrors mine
Surely seemed a touch of the divine
As I see it, so it would
But More of me – I don’t think I should

Its not that I need them-though company is good
More of me, a zillion strong stood
Staring at me from mirrors all around
Nobody uttering even a little sound

A lonely echoing soulless hell
Nothing new, nothing that grew
More of one they called the others
Alike, agreeing, a band of brothers.


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