Mirrors. A reflective glass.
Scattered about my home.
A view of my life through the glass.
A sickening sight, my own reflection.
Mirrors. The reason for my first panic attack.
Hotel shower, reflective view.
Dual surroundings, tripling and quadrupling forever into the universe.
Heavy breathing, are we real?
Mirrors. I used to think differently.
My younger self looked into them.
The view of the world was alternate.
As if I walked away, the person in the mirror was their own self and not me.
Mirrors. Shatter.
The breaking of the glass.
Glistening of the impending situation.
Shards floating away, much life my life.
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