It was around 4am. For no particular reason I sat out in the living room with a pad of paper, unsure of what to write. I looked around, considered the decorating. A white-rimmed mirror caught my eye. I wrote two pages of verses about it, and had an epiphany: I write much better when I take in my surroundings.
The white-rimmed mirror
Flickers with white candles
Burning their white flames
Into white smoke.
The white-rimmed mirror
Reads covers of white books
In white fonts
With white description.
The white-rimmed mirror
Reflects its white self
With white guilt
At white perception.
The white-rimmed mirror
Turns silver white
And gold to white washed air
Without white mercy.
The white-rimmed mirror
Shows non-white spectrums
But ignores them in white memory,
White history.
The white-rimmed mirror
Sees deep into white clouds
Past white atmosphere,
White heaven.
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You've found your way inside my head and now there's no way out!