Looking in the mirror,
hoping to find something new-
Something exciting, anything that would somehow turn into light.
Which, in return, gives nothing; just emptiness of what should be there,
maybe darkness one could say.
As the eyes of your own keep wandering, seeking for something that could be true,
just for them to catch a glimpse of a reflection of what seems
to be a stranger looking back at you.
A stranger who has the face of your own staring back-
also in a quiet trance,
but not entirely vacant-
As if they knew something you did not.
you yearn for change in yourself,
the reflection gives some hope-
only to be once shattered more by conscience that possesses you.
Now, Its more than eyes lingering into glass,
more so that it is a desire for the person who stands in front of you;
the person who you strive for.
Which they're so close to reach
but yet too far to be.
For the glass being
a stranger who is your own.
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 1:30 AM UTC
She was your first.
Your first love, your first kiss,
Your first in almost everything.
You loved her,
You really did.
You did things with her
That I wanted to be your first in.
She won the race of your love
before I even had the chance.
Its all a curse on me.
The smallest thing makes me sick.
The jealousy, the sick feeling;
It just eats me alive
day, by day.
Hearing her name coming out
of that mouth of yours
makes me sick.
Your eyes glancing at her skin
Makes me sick.
You lying to me about her
Makes me sick.
Even the thought of you and her.
Makes. Me. sick.
So sick that I throw up.
So sick that I cant even bare touching you.
Let alone speak to you.
It makes me more sick than youll ever know.
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 1:29 AM UTC