I stand alone,
yet I am surrounded
by the crowd, their black
bowlers on display out
into the vast infinity
of the space around me,
while I stand in the center
of the hall of mirrors,
unseen, unheard, invisible.
Individualism has ceased within the glass.
All move impulsively,
unconscious clones
of myself,
wandering as I wander,
following as I follow,
searching as I search,
the angles of the mirrors
distorting reality, giving
the illusion of movement.
They are puppets controlled
by echoes of my thoughts, their
synchronicity creepy in a way
I’m not prepared to think about.
But am I just a figment of my imagination?
Do I exist? Do they exist?
Relentless in their pursuit,
they stalk me as I investigate
the corners of the circle,
my thoughts echoing,
in time with the beats
of my heart.
The edges of the room close
in as I search for a way out.
A black void creeps into
my peripheral, threatening
to close me into myself,
inside my thoughts, erasing
my conscious self.
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