There is a stranger in your mirror,
Pretending to be you
Approached by horror
Fancied by a few
The ominous hours, haul into variance
Marring you to death
Until the buried forte, carts towards the split
Where you freeze offended
As the sweet wine of youth, clots beneath the pulse
Exposing the demon, all for once
Abandoning the plaintive draught
Soon, the pretender, the stranger you saw
Exiles into the blur
And you build a novel tomorrow
Lucid, beaming and sure.
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