A mirror does not stand fixed.
It may seem to do so,
But it does not.

A mirror, bends its angles
Twists it's idols, to a
Creepy perfection.

A mirror never stands fixed.
It reflects you, differently,
Each time.

Nor accurate, nor precise.
But concise, to its beings.

Place a mirror infront another,
You’ve been duplicated upon each other,
Move slightly--

The path has changed.

Break the mirror,
It continues,
But melt it.

It turns aura red,
And dissolves.

Could it be, that the mirrors you see.
That have duplicated you to be.
The very path, you walk?

And could it be,
The only way to destroy them,
Is to melt them,

And hell within it to—
Is the result upon who?

Don’t get too close to a mirror.
It is altered.
To a creepy perfection.