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Poetry By: Phoebe Kishbaugh

not sure...

Submitted:Mar 7, 2012    Reads: 13    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

How strange it is to see my reflection

Staring up with vacant eyes

But those eyes are the very same

That rest inside my skull

And see the world through a foggy haze

That never lifts, not even for you…

My reflection lives in a puddle

But when the puddle dries

And I cannot see myself anymore

Will I too disappear into the vapid air?

Who knows…I sure don't

But when all our masks are torn away

And our reflections are left naked and bare

Who will trick us then…?

No one, not even this fog we live in.


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