"Work in progress"

As I glare towards the mirror what do I see?,

An individual unfamiliar but mimics my movement's perfectly,

Only there's a delay when frozen in place staring at my face,

The figure survives while my eyes were deprived,

Of lights looming flare,

Additional signs lay side to side creeping close on clustered vines,

Of unimaginable size,

Slithering so gently its grip is soft as cotton,

Insatiable with this prizes demise,

Unceremoniously disposed of as if one never existed,

Trees fall in the distance deafaningly loud,

And no one hears it.