I clamber through the mirror that tells me it will all be okay.
Vine leaves and daisies left on the floor whisper that it will all be okay.
A hidden mystery,
a stolen treasure.
Beyond the symphonies of an oil-painted skyline,
a devastating void engulfs me and lets me know that somehow, somewhere, someday, it will all be okay.
A twinkling star,
the broken reflection of the constellations that now lie jagged and shattered on the floor cry that somehow, somewhere, someday, in whatever form, it will all be okay.
A disoriented periphery,
an illusion reality;
it all falls down.
From the million lies, and a billion truths, everyone rots with the scars of both;
but no one told me they would be the cause of my downfall.
To the depths, I claw into,
through the shadows, I swim through,
somewhere within this oblivion of despicable hospitality,
a set of truthful eyes tells me it will all be okay.
As I find myself clambering out of the mirror that pulled me through a thousand realities,
I believe the deceptions a little more.
That somehow, somewhere, and simply because, it will all be okay.
And who could’ve thought it would be told by the vindictive woman staring back in the mirror?