My right arm reaches through the mirror
trying to grasp my creative essence
I reach with my left
but its stuck between worlds
as my essence sits on the floor
curled in a ball
weeping into white draped knees
unable to look anywhere
through tired eyes
staring into the abyss
broken within the mirror dimension
lost to the shadows of reality
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Author:
kitty the naughty poet (
Offline) - Published: May 10th, 2022 01:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments6
Good writing Katy .. I wrote a poem about a mirror once .. quite a few years ago , I may post it
Shadows if reality or truth of illusion? Great poem here.
Intriguing words Katie.
Andy
Good write K.
Kitty thought she saw me in the mirror. She reached out with her hand, but it was only a photo of me stuck on the mirror! lol.
Ohh, she'll be OK when she sees Sir again. heehee.
Good write K.
Kitty thought she saw me in the mirror. She reached out with her hand, but it was only a photo of me stuck on the mirror! lol.
Ohh, she'll be OK when she sees Sir again. heehee.
Nice. Very mystical. "As my essence sits on the floor," could be the search for one's muse and " the shadows of reality" hint at a more ominous intent. A tale that could go in many directions. Maybe it will inspire many more works from you. Very well done. Enjoyed it. - Phil A
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