Shadows into Mirage

a poem by matt ⭒ september 4, 2026

I stare at my shadow cast on the cracked sidewalk
in the amber backdrop of the setting sun.
taller and slimmer, yet ghostly and faceless,
the shadow silently taunts me with every step.

the faster I walk, the faster he follows,
weaving past empty bus stops and parking lots,
injecting dread in my veins with needles of guilt,
too sharp to deflect, too painful to dodge.

as sunlight starts to fade, I find myself cornered
in a foggy alleyway haunted by forgotten dreams.
shadows stirring all around from past and present,
engulfing me in spirals of questions with no answers:

is this really how I will always see myself?
a plastic mirage reflecting all my failed ambitions?
an eighteen-year montage of all my weakest moments?
a walking collage made with all my shortcomings,
eternally chased by silhouettes of my sickly, ideal self?

yet maybe there is a place, lost between the ivy vines,
where shadows turn to mirage, and mirage into light,
and my self-doubts and fears of the dark disappear,
leaving me floating perfectly alone in crystalline air.

but today I can only hope, counting down the seconds,
heart racing against the lightning of my own thoughts.
and such is my shadowy self, wishing for cleaner air,
forever forced to keep dreaming of the day I get there.