The taste of blood is like rust
Its inky black
running down the side of my cheeks from my hollow heavy eyes

The smell of shadows is like death
Dark and stale and cold, freezing my stone heart heart to my lungs

The feel of dark sharp black lines, is sharp and stinging
It overwhelms my head and floods my mind till all I can do is cry

And then the blood flows freely from my eyes
The blood of the taste of rust

Shadowless forms come and call me
They think that they shine
They think they have body’s of light and hollows of gold
But they really have horns and tails with sharp spines

They never wonder what it is, whipping at their backs
Yet when the call to me
There tails spear my chest, and leave me bleeding dark sharp lines

The lines that overwhelm my head
and flood my mind until all I can do is cry
Then the blood flows freely from my eyes
The blood of the taste of rust

Then when I come to my place called home
I can feel the shadows breathing in all of the air that is supposed to be mine
Growing bigger and bigger
Like the shadowless forms that come and call me
That whip me with their tails
Making me bleed dark sharp lines
That feel so heavy that all I can do is cry
And the blood starts to flow from my eyes
The blood of the taste of rust

I look into the mirror and slip past its glass surface
Past the mirror is a strange land, a nice land at some times
but most times you cant tell,
since the land past the mirror always hides how it feels
You have to go so so so deep to truly know
But this is expected, since the land past the mirror mirrors me

The trees look twisted and weird past the mirror
Since the land past the mirror mirrors me
Never fitting in with their surroundings
Always changing into something increasingly worse

Everyone past the mirror knows so much
So much
They brag about it all the time
They flaunt there facts in the faces of flawed people
For few people past the mirror are not flawed
Figures since the people past the mirror mirror me

The ground past the mirror is always shaking
It never stops to take a breath
Triggering tremendous tremors that take total control
So much time is trashed, during these tremors
The ground seems to shake as if, everyone is watching it,
And as if it is never enough
And even though everyone sees the ground shake
Shaking as if it cant belong a place in the world
They walk on it anyway
True this since technical, topics past the mirror mirror me

The water past the mirror is  never still
It is sloshing and slugging so swiftly
Some sing songs to the water
And some of the songs sooth the water
Making it so smooth that you can see silver stones shining in the bottom
Soon though the songs are not enough
The water sees things is doesn't understand
Confused the water is.
Always confused
But such is the things past the mirror
Since the things past the mirror mirror me

Moments past the mirror make my mind murky
Mumbling people tell me my mind needs fixing
Maybe they're right
But maybe the land past the mirror is made for me
For my mangled mind to comprehend and understand
Some people look in the mirror and see themselves
Now don't get me wrong, i see myself, but I don't see my face
I see things mirroring myself
Meaning in simplest terms
I see me, in a way that I can understand
Instead of faces, that always deceive
Instead of body’s that look different from my sight
Instead of eyes that can change in the quickest instance
I see in my mind in a way that I can be sure that I'm not lying to myself
As we all so often do

It all started with a little green book
That was read aloud to me
And the title of this book
Was the giving tree

And I loved it so much
That I asked for more
Pete the cat and rainbow fish
Cluttered my playroom floor

And as I grew a little bit older
So did the books that I was read
The wind in the willows and romana age eight
Were read to me in bed

Then there was rascal
and winnie the phoo
And as I grew older still
Spy school was there too

Then the most glorious thing happened
I found my first book!
I could read if I tyred
All I had to do was look

But it took me two weeks
To make even a dent
I had to give it back to library
I ran out of the time I was lent

And mary pope osborns
Blizzard of the blue moon
Was so hard to read
It had me feeling like a loon

and if I couldn’t read
A book about A magic tree house
Then how could I even read
Stuart the mouse

So I gave up reading for myself
And my dad read to me instead
I heard so many stores
Before I went to bed

There was Narnia
And all of its wondrous tales
There was Harry Potter’s magic
Rons Utter fails

And then a day came
Where I picked up a book
And I opened it up
And all it took was a look!

I was reading the book
All by myself
There was no body there
There was no one to help

H.G. wells was my favorite
There was no dout in my mind
That it was the way that the book was
It was its own special kind

But I soon came to find
That the time machine was not the only one
I read rascal with eas
It was all said and done

Then I wanted more
And more came for me
I could read by myself!
I could do what I please!

Then I read more spy school
And Then Percy Jackson too
I went through that phays
And I know you did too

Then I read this book
It only took me four days!
The fourth book of percy jackson
Was done in a haze!

And then there was Cinder
That I finished in three
That book series will always be
Special to me

And then the book
That left me in a daze
488 pages
In three fateful days

The school for good and evil
Put me on a spree
I was reading books faster
Than I could possibly be

I ran out of room on my shelf
I ran out of room on the floor
But still as I read
I was left craving more!

Let the sky fall in three
And Sunkissed in two
The selection in three
There was nothing I couldn’t do!

I cried over One degree of freedom
And wicked king left me aghast
I even read in the night
My bedtime long past

It so happened when
I was looking at my shelf one day
When I heard a little Fwomp
And too my dismay

The books around me came
Crashing down
One by one
They all hit the ground

And as I stood there in anger
Wishing that I could die
Something on the floor
Caught my eye

And as I took a better look
My eyes opened with glee
It was the little green book
That was read to me at age three

And then I realize
As I look at that book
That what it gave too me
Wasn't necessarily what I took

This little green book
Gave me who I am now
That is all I have to say
That is my final bow