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I thought that you knew

I figured it was easy, I guess i was wrong

I told you a tale about two mirrors, and the endless reflections therein

She waits for love to pass like light through a window pane

She waits for consciousness to flood, a river of thought stemming from the endless,

flowing off into deferred memory

I am an endless hall of broken mirrors, i am awake to the possibilities of the one

my path is truncated in photographs scattered across the deserted buildings of my tattered mind

i am empty and darkened, black ink pours from my lips, into my weary hands
I am a beam of light, passing through two mirrors

I told you a tale of two mirrors, of duality and blame,

This is not the end, merely another beginning,

She waits for love to pass, I suppose she waits for me

This poem has nothing to do with my own mood or personal goings on, i just felt like writing. It is a bit moody, but i actually feel pretty good. Thanks.

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