Living things I can't undo.
Bitter-tasting, like a rue.
Nearly always askew.
Into a looking glass I peer.
Manifestation so unclear.
Expression fraught with fear.
Different gateways to my soul.
One my present view,
One I feel was stole.
One looking back,
One nearing it's final goal.
One eye black,
The other azure.
One darkened,
The other unsure.
One filled with color,
One dreadfully insecure.
Eyes wrought with confusion.
Left blackened by illusion.
Right blued from allusion.
I see no magic there.
Nothing but a glare.
Confined inside my stare.