I navigate my way through this funhouse
all twisty turns and false doors.
Devices to throw you off balance
tilting walk-way
ready throw travelers into the abyss,
landing on comfortable concrete.
Stairways become slides,
progress seems nigh impossible,
halfway up and back to the bottom,
cursing all the way down.
Spinning tunnel 
impossible to traverse
dizzy, maddening course
cannot go forward
yet impossible to turn around.
Maze of mirrors,
masters of distortion.
Emphasizing the false
gross exaggerations
of the true form.
Except one,
one that shows everything
in horrible clarity
crystal clear replay
of every move you’ve made
in this funhouse called life.
Showing every wrong turn,
and the right direction
not taken 
with arrows pointing the exact way.
Playing an endless loop
like a video
of mis-steps
missed connections,
pictures of those you’ve journeyed with
and the audio of those words
said, unsaid
The exquisite painful,
might have beens.
This mirror called Hindsight,
teachs and mocks.
It is a gift
and curse.
Try as I might,
I cannot break it
with any rock or man-made thing.
Beautiful, terrible looking glass.
So I stare into this mirror for an eternity,
hating the lessons,
but knowing they are vital
I gaze on,
memorizing my route,
before I exit into the night,
circle back to the beginning
and go through this funhouse again
praying I remember the way this time.