When you make it on the other side you see your reflection. It's not a real one, in actuality it's a robot copying your every move that looks just like you. When you reach out to touch it, it touches you. You feel nothing but cold. It's skin seems more faded than yours even though you know its a perfect copy of you. Did you always carry an air of exhuastion?

Everything about it looks so lifeless it's almost insulting, but when you peer into it eyes you can see something divine. A wanting to be something more. The ability to improve. The strive to keep going despite the bleak atmosphere. Despite knowing it is locked behind a door it still prevails.

Its hope. Its a tomorrow. Its a promise. Its a new page in an old torn book.

You always had the power to be more than life set you up to be. You always have the power to rewrite the pages and show the world your poetry. You've survived the worst and still smiled at the end of the day. You've done so much damage but you knew how to dress a wound, you can be caring if you tried. It's an unsettling reminder in it's eyes. Theres so many possibilties out there for you, waiting to be claimed.

It begs the question: Why did you choose this path in the first place?