We’re dueling in the House of Mirrors
Hurling accusations at our selves in the other.
You’re not listening, you don’t understand me.
You’re caught in the crossfire as I lay siege to my defects.
If you just loved me more then we’d have peace.
But I’m the reincarnation of your demons.
The line between us is blurry.
When you stand close you notice that it is my head above your shoulders. You raise your hand in front of your face, and your hand appears over my face, not yours.
I look down and I see legs stomach chest and shoulders, and after my shoulders there is you.
So who is it doing the accusing, and who is it being accused?
These words flying around like daggers, where are they going?
I see that my legs and shoulders bend to my will. Is it any wonder I try to bend you too?