Nostalgia

Nostalgia is like
A hall of mirrors
Multifaceted emulations from floor to ceiling
No doors or windows, so
You are forced to look at yourself
Into yourself
Into what appears to be forever
But is actually just a reflection
of everything you are
Wrapped up in tin- or aluminum-coated glass
Facing each other
To replicate ad infinitum.

And you can’t help but
Stare into your own eyes
Gazing on everything you have ever been
Remembering what calamity caused which lines in your face
Which accident caused which scars
Getting lost in the infinity of shouldn’t have done that, could have done this better
You forget that
You are trapped in a crazy hall of mirrors
With no way out
Thinking about nothing but the past
Instead of looking forward.

And even if you break from
That addiction of nostalgia
Smash the mirror to free yourself
Now all you have
Is a blank wall
And shards of glass
Broken into pieces, but still reflecting that same preoccupation.