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I pay my money

and wander through with you;

So many mirrors,

there are dozens of you;

I bump into you,

and you smile at me,

but something is

off – the curve of your mouth is wrong;

no, there’s more.

It’s the eyes.

You look through me,

and the smile doesn’t reach your eyes, even though you try your best to make it so.

I look for the exit, and run; but there is none

only a path that goes in a circle

that leads back to you, or the one in the mirror who pretends to be you.

No clowns with bloody teeth

hysterically laughing

could be any scarier.

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