Quotes About Reflection

How could we stop being us, even when we leave the jeweled cinema?

Oh but I need my lone self!

I wanted something different—Or is this it?

I don't know what's the point of it, being

If I drop both swords and rip off the blindfold, I still can't leave, for I can't leave this world except internally.

I was always pushed towards this place. Or backwards.

I won't read this after I've written it, any kind of past life pains me now

I don't let my thoughts plan on anything, even their completion. I once tried to select some way to be.

It isn't a good price, that you pay for writing a poem.

I don't think this is about love; you are telling me we need a new description.

I don't want to be in love. I'm tired of another's thoughts. I'm not, I can't stand my own.

or is it long ago, out of the memory I can't have, where does this imagery come from

Why am I alive?

I'm alone as usual impossibly nowhere or right here. I walked a path, formerly.

where we once sat lamenting.

Death is beautiful the way you are

You must know that you're always dead . . .

I hear voices in my head continuously, at least one of them sounds like me.

I'm sure I will change before I die, unless I die today or tomorrow.

I see my past drifting away . . . It isn't relevant to remember who I was, what my cares were.

I will be myself again. When were we ourselves? eons and lives ago

I want to say something subtle, but I can't. It's that, now that no one loves me, I don't mind.

Green as the inside of your thoughts where you can't go, they're too deep.

And all of that destruction belongs to you. The destruction can't be healed, we are murderers.