A Fistful Of Words

9 May 2012

Down With The Mirror

Slowly, I change, now

Yearning for what used to be

Everything’s strange now,

Can this really be me?

I look in the mirror,

And I see the same face,

But something is different

Maybe a change in the space

In between

Who’s to tell me

That who I see

Has anything to do with me?

No. Down with the mirror, no.

This illusion has to go

Only a picture,

The reflection is not who I am

My heart runs much deeper,

than this tangible hologram

I am not this body

I am detached

What you see here,

Is only the surface scratched.

A pool of thoughts,

An amassing of ideas,

Lies and truths,

Love and hate,

Passion and logic and

Secrets and knowledge and

Triumphs and mistakes and

curiosity

All of it is me,

Not this earthly body

I am greater than this shell

Though it has served me well

I need to see it no more

I already know the score

So down, down with the mirror, down.

Take it to the ground

Everyone gather round

And become who you were meant to be

(If only I could sing the things I hear in my head. Sadly, my voice is worthless)

Tags: poetry.
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