Reflections Within Reflections

Sometimes I feel, as though I stand, Trapped in the prison of my own hand. A mirror within a mirror's gaze, A labyrinth of eternal haze. I turn left; I turn right—there is no door, Only endless echoes of before. Each step I take is shown and shown, A thousand copies of the me I've known. The edges blur, the glass refracts, A kaleidoscope of sinking facts. Am I the seeker, or am I the sought? Fragments of dreams, or shadows of thought? The walls are whispers, silent and cold, Reflecting truths, I can't quite hold. Each reflection knows me more than I, Yet none can answer my whispered 'why?' I pound the pane, but the sound just dies, The maze is a web of my own disguise. Each pathway bends, each corridor curls, A hall of mirrors, a world of swirls. But deep within, there's something bright, A flicker of flame in infinite night. Perhaps the escape lies not in the fight, But in daring to shatter and step into light. So, I pause, I breathe, and I let it be, The maze transforms inside of me. A mirror is only as real as its image pretends to be; But true freedom begins when I no longer care.