You stop to look at yourself For every mirror you pass by You can’t help but to gaze into your eyes Such perfection that lies in the glass You tilt your head and pass your hands Through your shimmering hair Brushing all those obsidian strands
Oh the fortunate mirror So close to you So close to you I envy it
But then again I envy every single particle Of dust that rests on you The golden light that lays its head On your pink shirt The blessed water molecules Holding your hair together The plastic comb running its fingers in your otherwise tousled hair held by your warm fleshy hands As you stare into the mirror Brushing your obsidian strands
Selfishness only breeds jealousy is a phrase I have repeated hundreds, perhaps, thousands of times.
It is like medicine. In a bout of melancholy, I simply must repeat this phrase a few dozen times, and I am okay, in fact, maybe I am better than okay.
When exactly shall I learn that I do not need to be a part of anything? I can do an act purely for the sake of the act itself. There is no need for self gratification. Surely, there are others who have lived selflessly before. Then what is my excuse?
Under my breath, I mutter once again, Selfishness only breeds jealousy, ahh... It doesn't really help, does it?
Once more, I rewrite a line of poetry from one of the great poets as one would meticulously retrace the outlines of an image.
The placement of each period, the choice of a particular word, if one of these were amiss, it would be all for naught, but my! How each word, each line supports the other, what beauty!
What beauty indeed! The more I know, the more it burns like celluloid! Fuelling anguish in my heart! And oh dear! What a jealous heart I have! Surely, others must feel the same. Is it so hard to discern beauty? Can we not read? Yet why is it so elusive to recreate something even a fraction as eloquent? Do we not spectate the same Earth? Such mockery! To recognize such and be unable to recapitulate it! All things of significance have already been written. All else is imitation! And how much more it aches to know that I am a cheap one at that!
At least just once in my life, could I not write just one line equal to this? I do not ask for much. Just one line! Then I could proudly brandish whatever mediocrity I amount to, like a brand burnt into my flesh.
Might as well hang me out to dry I’m too sad to cry I saw you walking by Hand in hand with that brunette You too looked like a matching set While I’m just standing here I might as well disappear Maybe it’d be better that way Or just don’t say hey But I can’t help it… I have no one else I just need some help If only I didn’t feel like I need you.