A demented perception deeply distorted.
The carnival mirror that is his mind.
He is stuck on the wrong side of the one way mirror.
Loved ones shouting from the other side,
Proclaiming and preaching high regards.
But their echos fall on deaf ears.
It is all so plain to them, standing outside the box.
How can such a beautiful person,
Full of such passion and pride for others.
Forsaken themselves with simple haste?
Silently he sheds tear after tear,
Longing for the lust for living as others do.
Jealous of their jovial smiles, full of warmth.
Undeserving, his minds stomping down upon the notion.
What makes you worthy of what they cherish?
His heavy heart burned with an unknown sense.
This longing to be lighter,
No longer buried under the bricks of its mind.
He found himself lifting a hand.
At first gently brushing the beast he called his reflection.
Momentum gaining, he pressed against the perverted image.
And as if from the distance,
Voices began to fill the space,
What little spaces his silent tears had not filled.
That demon inside his mind cried out,
LIES! LIES! We do not deserve.
But the percussion of loved ones' cries,
With years of persistence and perseverance,
Had left the carnival mirror cracked and weakened.
Exploit the weakness, whispers his heart.
Finger clenched, so hard the nails cut his skin.
A fire rages deep now.
Rattling his soul and showering off the dust.
Powerful passion filled his once heavy heart,
Lifting a body brought down to its knees.
Raising an arm as if in triumph.
Forcing skin again glass with a thud.
With each blow the lines grew,
Engulfing the man staring back at him so clearly, for so many years.
With all his might it seems futile,
This empty place is where he shall remain.
Slowly his hand finds his side,
In the cold collection of tears still rising.
Deafening defeat echoed in his ears,
And as he lay his head down,
Against the ghastly grin of the monster taunting him.
Freely falling, in to open arms.
His friends and family there to catch him.
Flaccid from exhaustion, he paid no mind.
To the shards of glass scattered in his skin.
Mementos of a time not to be forgotten,
Remembered but not feared.
With the love of self, we shall conquer.
But it is the love of others with which we will endure.