hello, mirror
I say hello to the mirror
even though it only stares
at me in confusion because
I am speaking in a strange,
incomprehensible language
that it cannot understand;
and after all the mirror is
only made of polished glass
just like everything else -
shining so brightly and
reflecting every damn thing
around it because it does
not have anything behind
it to show to the world.
I will break this down
with my hands, hoping to
nothing that it would
somehow heal the open
scars with its own sharp
edges, and perhaps cut
some sense into me and
stop the rivulets of
confuséd screams that
refuse to keep quiet, even
for one minute.
Or maybe
that's just my own voice
inside my own head, loud
and blurred with staticity as
it tries to tell me the story
of my past - of long-ago
days spent in fields of tall
grasses and tall trees,
now but fields of ashes
and smoke and the dust of
corpse-winds that die,
over and over again in
my mind. And I see them.
I see them all, laughing
behind their masks of
nonchalance, as though
that could hide them from
the wrath burning in my heart.
And outside they point
and stare, and they say I am
in way over my own head;
and I know this. I know this.
But I do not back down and
I do not stop because
I cannot stop and I will not
until the day comes where
the storm will take me away,
and send me to another
transient land of more broken
rains.
You look at me and
laugh, and I say: "Laugh on,
for soon I shall be the one
lying six-feet beneath the
sheet of ice that covers your
heart, and you will be begging
to join me; but the way will
have shut by then, and I will
hold on to the key and never
never never never never
give it to another."
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
