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Reflective, Refractive

by Rita Webb
2001
Reflecting my psyche, mirror of my soul
A cloudy prism of life's bitter toll
My own image darkened and painful it lies
I see myself somewhere, there in your eyes

Earth's shattered glasswork cuts to the bone
Years telescoping, turning to stone
Alone when we die and leave this sad place
Onward we run, in one more fruitless race

Reflective, refractive, not what it seems
Distortions revealed in life's broken dreams
Move in, look closer, and you'll quickly see
Nothing is what it's played up to be.

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