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.
© Copyright 2016 Phoebe Kishbaugh. All rights reserved.