life comes in a constant cycle
beneath the shadow of my step
it grows and takes me into its grasp
so vile yet so soft like a satin sheet
and beneath its fabric veil, it lay:
a mirror image of myself,
o, it speaks to me
this doppelgänger upon me
who moans and weeps mine name,
in its increasingly painful grasp
who is this culprit in mine home?
illuminated by the desert moonlight,
unlike nights of neon and pavement
in its post-death wander across time:
but for where does he go?
Feb 24, 2020
Feb 24, 2020 at 10:41 PM UTC
life comes in a constant cycle
beneath the shadow of my step
it grows and takes me into its grasp
so vile yet so soft like a satin sheet
and beneath its fabric veil, it lay:
a mirror image of myself,
o, it speaks to me
this doppelgänger upon me
who moans and weeps mine name,
in its increasingly painful grasp
who is this culprit in mine home?
illuminated by the desert moonlight,
unlike nights of neon and pavement
in its post-death wander across time:
but for where does he go?
