In reflections, there is no memory

No experiences

No past

In reflections, there is no future

No passion

No desire

A reflection is not always truthful

There are possibilities of distortions

But possibilities of accuracy

I love the moment but hate the present

I love the past but hate it’s echo

I love the future but hate the warnings

A million reflections will nevеr outrun a second of reality

As reflеctions cannot move

They are glimpses into the present

To me, the tube exists in a vacuum

Faces blend together, i begin to sweat

Fears take over as i theorise in this tomb

Ever screeching louder i must not fret

But i do

And i will

And i’ll stare into the window

Entering a tunnel i see myself and only myself

I am alone

Of course, there are beings in this carriage

But not in the reflection

My eyes fix to my eyes, my shoulders fall, my restless leg rests

And my hair is the same

Alone with strangers

Alone with friends

I cannot stop

My eyes glazed over like that donut i bought from the little bakery with the diagonal striped sign i should go there again when i return but i won’t (maybe)

I crave change but fear it’s wrath

Bloodbath imagery rings in my ear

From the 13+ spectre based story i read at 9 years young

If i remember correctly

First it was the tunnel

Second was the screeching

And third was the silence