An experience of pathetic fallacy

I look outside at the trees and small plants in bloom
Brown all over, but with green leaves sprouting too
The brush full of death
The canopy above is rife with life
The sun trumps over all, casting an orange glow
Only on the top half of the wood, creating
An uneasiness as day transitions into night
Feeling empty inside, like the wood before me
Only half filled with the orange light
Soon all of the wood will fall into darkness
With the cool winds flowing through it

At least the woods are whole again
However not I, no sunset
Is going to make me whole tonight.

Worn and Torn

Impenetrable reflections on mirrors
All around me, watching my every error
No matter how many I eliminate
There is another I must eradicate...

Each with it's own face
Similar, but not the same
Portraying actions, or
Thoughts never shown

I see myself in these mirrors
Creating within an unimaginable terror
The fears of what if or what was wrong
Hopes and dreams, made in one mold
Now smelted away to create another, or
Left as scrap to be claimed later
Destroyed by these sated mirrors

The strength for fighting has left
Yet I keep on fighting an infinite enemy
Destroying me, one way or another
It seems when the last of my hope
Is over, only then I can rest among these mirrors
Forever...