The man in the mirror stands behind me
but always just out of view
from the corner of my eye I see
but can never focus on to
I thought he looked a lot like me
but as I kept saw him more
the man in the mirror stood closer
and looked different than before
He used to be familiar
but now he seems grotesque
like a melting statue in a wax museum
a bulbous, overblown mess
This morning he was there again
but this time right behind
odd that my reflection moved
with his dance this time
Just a quick, creepy poem.
My newest poetry book is now available!
If you like my work consider supporting me with a donation! http://www.paypal.me/FrankOrmond
My other poetry has been gaining some attention online:
- Poetry: “While Sick I Dream”
- Poetry: “The End of Summer”
- Poetry: “Childhood Thorns”
- Poetry: “Cardinals in Spring Snow”
You may like some of my other posts about writing:
Frank Ormond 