Poetry

Mirrors mirrors on the walls
Faces faces tend to crawl
Underneath the veil of night
She lies buried in her tights

Clones of future clones of past
Memories reignite at last
When the world goes too slow
Put yourself in a boat that rows

Halfway done yet never complete
Poems seem a hill too steep
When you finally understand
The blade is already in your hand

Days of yonder days of yore
Days where no man will be poor
Days when lofts seem so reassuring
And where cellars seem helpful and curing

And all in all what does this mean?
A simple thought or thought stream?
Is there no meaning in poetry?
Is it just something written woefully?

I'll leave the answer up to you
As you seem clever through and through
But though you think you may have found it
don't be amazed if you're dumbfounded.