I look in a mirror,
Am standing tall like a pillar,
There’s less beauty before me,
Twice as less had I been sober.
I’ve grown to like this God’s image.
Some say and I’ve always taken so for a compliment;
With the size of my head,
I must have been crafted for the moon,
But it’s now weary and clobbered,
Drained of warmth, freezing with pain.
But I’ve known pain;
Been knocked out twice;
I’ve had stitches with no anesthetic;
And as for my missing front teeth,
I wasn’t born this way.
I’ve known pain.
But this hits me hard.
And against the grain I seek help from mirror lest I run mad.
Stupid as I am, I’ve sparked a plug of genius!
Mirror isn’t any wiser,
He’s shown me nothing!
Not even a drop of blood from my bleeding heart!
You are so done mirror.
I didn’t found the reflective telescope,
But he didn’t found the deception of mirror,
I just did.
I believe in second chances.
May be mirror got obstructed by my Louis Vuitton?
I rip my shirt off,
Not quite a sight,
A just step of faith and hope.
But Mirror won’t budge, blind eye she turns.
So it sinks in.
My soul to healing must trudge,
My faith drained, my hope faint,
Am so filled with hate.
I should have saved for that gun earlier,
This would be a good time to practice my shooting,
The vodka too costs money.
My stupid heart is open so fast, so often.
Now it’s all nibbled.
But am in no haste to lead myself to waste,
I’ll treat myself better.
I’ll learn me a few jokes,
And buy me a new heart.
If genius is to be believed,
My new heart will be un-breakable.
So fair, we all keep a lot with in us,
True, what when we call pain love,
And it’s pursuit a gain.
Even when this loss for which we so dearly bargain,
Has been rightly called a fall.
And nightly has had a raise in its toll.
Mirror is just reflective,
Of us as imperfect and the hoodwinker that’s perfect.
We sooth and cuddle and wait on fate on us to prey,
We put the hearse before the horse;
Advance emotion and forever hold logic in arrears,
Wait on a miracle to heal our fears.
And hope that when we wake-in;
This noun love,
We may be the heroes that it couldn’t have,
Even when for themselves,
love indeed , they did have.
We hope, that may be someday;
Mirrors, on a fair day,
Will show the hearts that bleed.
But till that mountain’s moved,
Deceptive lives, no different from mirror’s, we’ll lead.
A #Zimwe ©http://#zimwe.wordpress.com/Chapter 0/empathy