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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1902966
reflecting on the past
The Mirror

It doesn’t matter which way you turn.
Blankly stare in the mirror.
Facts are the facts.
A lie is a lie.
Pictured fool.
Too clear.

People stroll into your life and smile.
They slap each side of your head.
You struggle up.
Stare lovingly back.
Lovely bruise.
Well fed.

Or stronger still and stupid blinded.
You tell the joke of the meek.
Climb in a well.
Breathe a wicked smell.
Boldly crying.
Who’s weak?

Take a hammer and erase mistakes.
Leave the shattered glass and shards.
Forge a new path.
No one claims the past.
Not mine or yours.
Not ours.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1902966