nothing is faced
no trap, just me reflected in it
the mirror has a painters box sealed
i’m in the boxing ring with pallets
the painting has heavy gloves waiting
dings seem like a shock wave in my mind
state
•
my heart now counts a lot less with a view
of
blue soul, caving in from the top
  this mirror has a hidden trap tripping
i’m starring at it as if i’m the missing piece
now the picture is shattered into myself
the portrait separated into a collage
the colors i’m boxed in with moves my
moods
•
I’m lost in these mirror states of mood rings