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Click hereIn a mirror, clear as glass
seeing through me to the wall behind.
Stacked bricks, compacted of sand and stone
like bits of life patterned into a whole.
Or am I half?
Part and parcel, incomplete?
Born of loneliness, soul deep?
Again,
I find myself against a wall of my own making,
repeating mistakes.
Brick by brick,
locking away all that is me
in a windowless room,
just this mirror
seeing through me.
The spacing of the lines felt a bit odd. It got in the way, just a bit, of my enjoyment of your work. I really liked the ideas here, though.