A room full of mirrors, reflections of me.
Each line on my face traces back
to another place and time
when I was blind, unable to see the wickedness of words or deeds.
That person is no longer me, haunted by the past.
So I remove my mask and watch as the mirrors shatter.
These shards of glass are now all that remains of the ghosts of my memories.
Then I lock the door to this room full of mirrors and throw away the key.
The room full of mirrors has no part to play in my history,
nor do the ghosts that once surrounded me.
when I say it is from the archives, it really is!
I have nearly 2000 poems on my PC!
Copyright © 2025 Maggie Watson
All Rights Reserved