In the dead of night I wake

and go to the mirror.

All is black except

for the yellow light between my reflection

and the real me.

What I see in the mirror is

two halves.

I am flesh on one side,

phantom on the other.

Oh, but this is frightening!

None could understand it,

for even barely do.

My right half is frail and frightened,

brown dots and blemishes rising

from pale skin to pronounce

this look of fear.

But the phantom on the left side of me

smirks. It is more solid than my right half,

it is iron!

No matter how warm and wistful my right side:

unfolding one palm upward, like a flower,

an offering to a warm and delicate, feminine hand;

my left side sneers revealing its serrated teeth,

the marks of its ferocious appetite

with white drool streaming from inside its maw,

but all the while an innocent lily-like glow

in its eye.

What is this apparition?

A manifestation of internal struggle?

Hallucination? Nightmare?

Or is it merely what I’ve written it to be?

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