My Own House of Mirrors

Here is another one from the only person sharing on this blog that has a hard time drawing a stick figure...

My Own House of Mirrors

A reflection stairs back at me,

With light, happy, younger eyes.

A glimpse into a past of mine,

Before the sound of empty cries.

I turn back to my journey,

Stumbling through this maze of time.

A deep feeling of heaviness in my soul,

From this guilt of an unknown crime.

Flashes of emotions on my left and right,

Quietly tell me the stories of my life.

Guiding me over the hills I’ve lived,

Not loosing sight of a forgotten strife.

A vision of a blue house,

That enveloped my dreams of youth.

Seeing the lessons I learned there,

Yet missing some unspoken truth.

More scenes come to view and fade away,

As my feet follow a single road.

The pictures seem to guide me onward,

Following directions I was never told.

Walking down these never ending halls,

These endless rows of restless reflections.

I’m left with a haunting, tainted vision,

With no one to hear my silent objections.

Blindly following the sound of my feet,

Masked with a smile and cradled in tears.

I’ll wonder on alone in these halls,

In this, my own house of mirrors.

_______