Hall of mirrors

Walk through the hall of mirrors,
Where Different faces watch my every move,
Some seem familiar yet others just strangers,
Their eyes watching with barely concealed hunger,
The tormented and tormenting hanging side by side,
Innocent souls playing next to tortured demons,
All awaiting their brief moments of freedom,
While Avoiding looking into dead eyes of the forgotten, 
Yet still I walk through the hall of mirrors,
Will I be the one who comes out the other side….?

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critique and comments welcome.

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Interesting but disturbing: almost makes you feel you might have a dissociative identity disorder when you emerge!


Intriguing multifaceted poem, makes you think; an interesting theme and very well written; I suppose it’s whether your split-self comes together as single image in your mind after exiting that matters! I passed a distorting mirror in Edinburgh after turning into a Spanish onion and then a leek! Frightening! Might end up in a vegetative state!


tortured demons, perhaps torturous
or do you mean that the souls that are innocent torture demons?
a puzzling poem

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