An Ode to Myselves

These ripples within my consciousness, just

the white noise of an inner unknown and

a million shards of memories—

Can bleeding souls ever satiate

a vision tainted by nightmares?

Ripping through their vessel, these thoughts

bare their fangs and feed. But, who's

even in control of my vestige? Stranded

within this mirror maze of hauntings…

Am I just what my memories have

deceived me to be? Flitting in the

reflections of my eyes— what are they…?

These lifetimes of strangers that feel

within reach, yet so far away?

Grasping at echoes, I fade amidst
a crowd full of my selves.
These eyes, a mere gateway to
hell fires yet to begin.

Each thread of attachment, to those I

believed to be my anchors…
will they now loop around my neck instead?
My shadows keep clawing their way into this realm
(or perhaps snatching me into theirs?)

Dust rises as the stampede continues.
Left in the rubble as the dead march on,
who am I in this endless night?

The aftermath, or the one whose footsteps echo first?

Years in the passing, the path

of this journey long lost to

chaos. Yet I must drift

along with the tide, until death’s embrace…

Or perhaps… am I this genre personified?