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The mirror and the window
Side by side
One reflected the possible truth inside
Other looked at the possible possibilities outside
Snipes Sep 2
**** what would I know
Of a never ending battle
I’m shackled up at home
Only warn torn Warhol’s
Is the money I struggle for
I see for nothing harmful
Headaches pound migraines
The war my mind gains
While you say something brilliant
Eyes make it real for the deceiving Braille
At eye rate the peddles fall from the wings
As he casts into the ocean which he fears
The light mirrors peace at the surface
Either he’s floating or breathing
The world sees it all as the same thing
tree Sep 2
after years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor i think i finally understand why the face staring back at me in the mirror is so unfamiliar

i am not my dark eyes, i am not my crooked nose, i am not my thin lips, i am not my rosy cheeks

no, i am the hairstyle that my mother taught me how to do before middle school started so that i could take care of myself
i am the love poems that run through my head all day because language is so wonderful and you are so wonderful and sometimes i can't help but experience certain compositions as many times as possible
i am the friendship bracelet that i wear on my wrist that matches with my best friend who would never wear a bracelet in a million years but did it for me
i am the whirlpool of love that exists behind my eyes that shy glances and awkward eye contact put there

i see myself in my fingers mindlessly tapping out rhythms from my favorite songs, not in my tears, but
i see myself in everything i mourn for

i see myself in the money i saved from my grandmother's funeral three years ago because i am too attached to part from it, not in my smile, but
i see myself in my inability to keep a straight face when someone laughs at my jokes

the years of pondering in musty libraries and public bathrooms and on my bedroom floor was worth it because i see myself in those too, more doodles in the margins of the storybook of my life

in the end, i became who i am because of you
humans are but mosaics of the people around them ;;; we are such little seeds if not watered by loved ones
The Young Poet Jun 2020
She stares into the mirror
A mirror so plain
Sits and ponders who to blame
Her father who fell in love with a black
Or her mother who fell in love with a white

She sits and stares analysing her face
Wishing she was from a different race
Although she was beautiful she hid from the world
Scared to show the real her

Only once the mirror shatters
Then people will see what truly matters
When my mind gets lost in the far corner of the dark side of the moon,
the need grows for razors to expose my blood, destroying progress’ fragile balloon,
I glaze myself in the mirror and, as if the mirror magically change
The beast I thought to see, to a fair queen. Who wonders why we grew estranged.
It’s does quick glances at the mirror that allow you to see the truth
That brief moment
Walking into the shaded apartment to find you reading in flannel
And everything in me jumps
The camera obscura of my iris snaps,
Suspending you in amber light.
The tapered elegance of your fingers across a page
A glint of Versailles blue-gold eyes
And fortified ramparts of your shoulders.
I will carry this vestige with me
In a petticoat pocket
Until we are old
And your arms do not lift me as you just did
The last strand of your hair is silver
And your cheeks sink with age like your father’s.
These small gems of youth
Of promise
To keep in a sleeve until they are needed
And the mirrors show reflections we cannot change
That unforgiving metal.
Within that unforgiving metal lies all the things you cannot forgive about yourself.
Those freckles on your chin that you wish would expand into a constellation so that you may give them names and so that you may give them meaning,
within that unforgiving metal.

The Greeks threw their hands towards the heavens
and deemed cosmic accidents worthy of the names of gods,
although within them lie no gifts.
Like a bedazzled and jaded Tiresias impostor one stumbles upon
on their way home,
who sees nothing but the tangible
and tells all but the truth.
Still, he is clad in diamonds and gold
and thus has value in trade.
Beauty triumphs over mendacity
and mendacity over reality.

But the freckles that mar your skin,
that you cannot transfigure into the most meaningless of stars or the crudest of answers,
sit there defiantly,
waiting to be acknowledged and waiting to be named.

You lean your forehead forward to rest against the cool smoothness of its idle twin.
You could swear you saw her sneer at you.
The freckles do not budge—they will consume you whole.
Mark Wanless Aug 8
i thought i saw a
god in my mind it was just
you in a mirror
I stood in front of the mirror again,
see a sad face,
looking for where to be happy.
I'm looking for myself,
maybe lost among the piles of books,
I want to find it among the quotes on my favorite novel,
which I borrowed from you.
I looked for it again yesterday.
But I lost you today.
Turns out we still need to write a story,
but not to write love,
any of them.
Indonesia, 5th May 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Kayla Gallant Aug 10
Where are you hiding
I’ve searched high and low
In the mirror
And in my soul
To no avail
I somehow managed
To misplace myself
Rough poem about how I've been feeling lately.
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