The faces around me
Become a mirror,
Reflecting back at me
A face which I do not see in myself;
And it drives me
To the brink of insanity,
The edge of madness,
The void of one who does not see,
Or rather, of one who sees,
But sees as though through
A broken pane of glass,
A shattered mirror:
Twisted, warped,
So that it no longer depicts
To any degree of accuracy
The likeness of the one
Who looks upon it.

We see ourselves
Through
Broken Mirrors

[Never again.
I refuse.]