A Wilderness of Mirrors

I stepped into a forest where every tree reflected me, but none with the same expression. One wept. One smiled. One looked away. I asked them, Which one am I? They shattered into a thousand answers. The ground was glass. I fell upwards. Gravity obeyed my uncertainty. My shadow walked ahead, not behind— impatient, perhaps, to leave me behind. A voice whispered in reverse: "Beware the echo that thinks it's original." I laughed, but the laugh did not belong to me. A deer passed through, made entirely of eyes. It saw everything but never stopped. In this place, even silence had teeth. I left a version of myself in every mirror, and now I’m not sure who escaped.