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The Mirror Beneath the Mirror Beneath the sunlit smile you wear,
a labyrinth stirs—silent, aware.
Not evil, not pure, just forgotten things—
a choir of ghosts with broken wings. The shadow waits—not to destroy,
but to reclaim what we disown in joy.
It speaks in dreams, in slips of tongue,
a voice from depths where night was young. We fear the mirror turned around,
for there, no false light can...