Grabbing a sketch pad and pencil
I sit myself in front of the mirror
Glowering at my reflection
Twirling the pencil in my hands
My mind starts to wander
A pair of mouse brown eyes meet mine
And the lank dark hair cascades down my back
The wide nose wrinkles at the sight
And a pink tongue glides over the yellowish teeth
The hand is still twirling the pencil
While the other is still, clutching the pad
The eyebrows knit together
What secrets does this object hide?
Am I the only one who's thought of
what is on the other side?
The hand leaves the sketch pad
And presses on the glass
It somehow knows how to mimic me
To know when I'm going to stick out my tongue
Or shreik with glee
What mysteries hide beyond that glass?
Is a reflection all there is?
Pressing both hands
against the glass
The eyes are sharp
My back is arched
Kneeling on the floor
In front of the mirror
Just staring
Is there perhaps an angel in there?
Taking the form of whoever it may be?
Or maybe demons
Put prisoners
Forced to be in mirrors
As a punishment
Mocking whatever is on the other side
No-gender, no doubt
Just a neutral-being trapped
I sit back down
My long legs folding over each other
Picking up the pencil
My hand gracefully glides over the sketchpad
Glancing at the mirror every now and then
To make a completely similar image
After the self portrait is done
I stand up
Take up the sketch pad and pencil
And I look once again at the mirror
“Good bye Demon,” I say smiling
The reflection smiles back
A.H.
YOU ARE READING
Krystal's Book Of Poems
PoetryJust some of my poems, written through ages ten to current. The first few ones are older and the most recent ones are new.
