Dressed in Rust

I look at myself in the mirror.

A smiling face.

A half forgotten face

Is it me? Am I who I see?

Are the chains on me?

I smell rust,

Rust in the air

What is this place?

This palace of hollowness

Of darkness.

“Son, you are dressed in rust.”

and I realise

The rust is me.

The darkness,

The face in the mirror

And the mirror

Is me.