Peering through my looking glass

I began to see all the cracks.

Large to small, obscure and symmetrical

Contorting my image into a spectacle.

I did not recognize the man in the mirror

His appearance had changed over the years.

Cold and void of life, his eyes had shown

Chills in my spine began to grow.

The man is wrought with anger and confusion

His mind is filled with grandiose delusions.

Fixing the mirror, the mans appearance changed

His face and body arranged in my way.

The mirror was fixed, yet the cracks still showed

The man is still underneath, just in new clothes.









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running_with_rabbits's picture

nice write!

if we all haven;'t felt this way from time to time we will that is for sure

good job capturing a moment which is hard to feel and even harder to bring to the light

Much Love


nightlight1220's picture

This is so good.. i enjoyed

This is so good.. i enjoyed it...twice.


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


willow's picture


I stand (or sit :3) speechless! It's an undescribably beautiful poem! I've often tried to write poems about the mirror of our own selves and how we could perceive ourselves if we were able to see our true reflection.. There's so much more that could say but i'd be rambling if I did so for now, just let me say this

Thank you for giving me a chance to read your poem :D