I am but a mirror of
I am but a projection of
I am but a phantom of
I slide behind a curtain
the discarded furniture of your mind
the ghosts of your past
the spectres of your nightmares.
I am a piece of fiction, none of it is true.
I am an actress in your private film.
I am an obsession, a drug.
I am prophecy made flesh.
© Sybille Sterk
Do not copy or publish this poem in any way shape or form without my written permission.
The title ‘Slide’ came to me and I didn’t quite know why at first. It’s such an odd title for this poem, but it wouldn’t go away. I then realised that it was inspired by a character in the Terry Goodkind series of books ‘Sword of Truth’. The Slide is a kind of soul eater and it can devour the soul of someone and use it to his/her own advantage.