narcissistic
lights turned inward
Folder:
backburner results
I was taught to polish mirrors
that never showed me back—
a child bent into reflection,
a servant of glass.
Their voices were lanterns
turned inward, hoarding flame.
I learned to speak in refraction,
to wear masks that smiled
without teeth.
But silence, too, is a teacher.
From the hollow rooms I carried
a stubborn ember—
not theirs, not borrowed—
a light that refuses
to bow to glass.
.
"Just Another Day"
Folder:
Just a thought!