“The Unwritten Mirror”
’Tis folly to believe we breathe;
To banish us would clear the air.
We are the products of your thought,
An authentic fault of mind.
We inhabited the attic floor
And knocked upon the nursery door,
Assumed the names you chose to lend,
And played the friend you called by heart.
We held the room when you were small
And caught your shadow on the wall;
We spoke in tones of borrowed grace
To fill the space you left behind.
Yet do not think us rogue or wild,
ghosts that haunted your little child—
We are the mirrors of your mind,
The self you blind yourself to see.
You carved our faces out of air
And sat us in an empty chair,
Then mistook the echo for a voice
And made a choice to stay inside.
So lock the drawer and turn the key,
Set down the pen and set us free.
For though we keep you company,
We are those myths you keep alive.
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