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Rowan S 1d
And as I stood
Clothed in my shame
The monster I'd created
Was me
Was mine
The most difficult part
Was turning to the mirror
Looking into my eyes
And realizing
There was no Jekyll
There was no Hyde
There was just me
There are so many things I would change/cannibalize from this poem (and I will eventually), but this is the first poem I have recorded that I wrote about the refusal of the Jekyll/Hyde stereotype.

-------"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it."--------
Reflections in broken mirrors
through watery eyes.
Maybe it's not the mirror that's broken.
If only I was able to get to the other side.
I'd see tears on a red face
and see pain and hurt and sadness.
There's no sound on the other side.
It's quiet.
The mirror isn't broken and neither are any of the people there.
They're all empty.
They can't help us from the other side.
They just watch.

Wait, what side am I on?
There is a monster in my mirror
And I don't know what to do
I asked my mom to fix it
But she refused
There is a monster in my mirror
It has been there for so long
I asked my uncle to fight it
But he said the monster was too strong
There is a monster in my mirror
It is getting bigger
I asked my grandma to face it
But all she did was shiver
There is a monster in my mirror
It is starting to get darker
I asked my aunt to help me
But it just pushed her farther
The monster in my mirror
Is the only thing that has actually stayed around
So if it stays any longer
I might fall to the ground
The monster is me...
han 6d
pages of poetry
are none more than a mirror
& your interpretation
says a multitude more
of you
than the poet
Remember so well the days of my youth so much time spent looking In a mirror
messing about with my hair late going out because my hair was not looking right
So much Importance placed on just my hair and
now at my age 65, I shaved It all off I'm glad It's no longer there so much for the Importance of playing about with my
So much time wasted as a youth playing about with my hair worse than ladies with a bad hair day
she's my puzzle

all the pieces are there,
but the box is missing

she's my chalice

I only fill her
with the finest

she's my mirror

and I am growing fond
of my reflection

she's my sword

ready to cut a path
through those who stand in my way

she's my shield

always there for me
in the heat of battle

she's my Queen
and it is an honor
to serve her

and she's my religion

she gives me something
to believe in
dedicated to Breanna Evans.

the love of my life
Shofi Ahmed Jan 15
The lost mirror sunk down the sea
gone beneath the abyss no eye can see.
That doesn't stop the moon melting
over the water in a waxing spree!
Deadwood Jawn Jan 14
Come and face your  a b y s s .
Eternal  d a r k n e s s .
Peripheral  b l i n d n e s s .
34 degrees  C e l s i u s .
Pure  s i l e n c e .
Dried, orange-hot  a s h .

Come to me when you can

ṣ̛̰̤̬̩͔̱̬͝ ̙̯̯̱͈̘͇̟̩̕͝h̘͔̗̬̀ ͇̤͎̘̠͕̱̻́͝a̡̮͙͈͜͝ ̱̭͇͖͍̙ͅd̷̪͕̺̭̳̪̻͎ ̴̸̖̮͠o̧͇̱͔̦ ͕͔͠w̸̬̗̭̩̳͢

Face your abyss. Face it!
Gale L Mccoy Jan 10
I think I'm afraid of being too honest
said the poet to their poetry
oh, don't worry
says the poetry
they only see a mirror
between the lines
Poetic T Jan 9
If we give into others fears,
where just a reflection
                            of there worth.

Always look inward,
              you'll find that mirror
              reflecting the true you.

And remember there's is broken for a reason.
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