Mirror Maze

Reflection is all I see.
A plain copy.
Old brown leaves crunch. My bare toes part a trail through what used to be a town full of life.
I see the angelic stone statues near where she should be, but all that’s left is a shell.

The sky is so dull now; it seems to me that the sky is crying.
So I use the clouds to wipe away the depression that is a rainy day.
Age, imperfection, judgment are all that’s left.
Everything is simply as it seems.