The Troxler Effect

I look in the mirror, 
and what do I see?
Myself, of course,
or is it me?
I look and stare and look again,
but I can’t seem to think.
Why, oh why do I look like this,
I can barely blink.
I look at my face,
so distorted.
My face is so wrong,
incredibly contorted.
But then I notice, 
I had dimmed the light.
I start to wonder,
am I just giving myself a fright?
But in the mirror I see,
something in the corner.
Staring, just staring,
it might be a warner.
But then, another,
close enough to feel.
I try to close my eyes,
it’s not real, it’s not real!
And then when they open,
I stare again.
But someone’s staring back,
it’s not me, it’s them.
Someone, something,
not me, not me.
But someone, maybe,
that someone is me.
But no, I don’t look like that,
or do I?
I can’t think straight,
I think I’m going to cry.
Is this my mind,
or maybe just a dream?
Wait, what is that behind me,
I can only scream.
That monster, that thing,
was from my childhood nightmares.
They chased me, followed me,
like they wanted to make me theirs.
But soon I start to think,
why don’t I just leave?
But I know if I do,
I’ll just start to grieve.
I can’t go, must stay,
says the person in the mirror.
But that’s me, or not,
I wish I could see it clearer.
And soon enough,
when I try to leave;
That thing stops my heart,
I can no longer breathe.