all this time that I’ve been aware of
magical tales of truth and dare
of lame fantasies and fatiguing dreams
satisfying as it may seem
yet all the more disheartening
I used to take pleasure
off what I see in the mirror
a blooming semblance of yesteryears
satisfying feeling of subliminal self
only to be gobbled up after a while
to see the difference between today and yesterday
as I stare at the image before me
I couldn’t help but mind the wilting reality
suddenly so afraid of present ambiguities
that has become my instant company
like a withering leaf falling into the dirt
feeling alone, braving the storm
my only amour propre in coming this far
are the turnout of what I have become
my anatomy may have changed this much
but the bestowal and experiences I have had
together those that I have abetted
are clear indications of my worthwhile days
spent in meaningful ways