The time I spend with you in my head,
I am your mirror mirror on the wall,
projecting the image you want to see,
but your attention is only directed inwards,
inconsideration, let me dry your boots,
you've been pacing in muddy fields again.

Self-reflection was never meant to extend,
beyond the lengths you push it.
I thought the bubble would burst,
its flexibility must be boundless.

Surmounting tendencies are palpably overlooked.
I don't want to be your ego food.