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amanda Jun 2018
gradually they go-
the idiosyncratic, the mortal, the private.
nothing is left
but desolate halls.
before they go,
the mirrors gaze at them.
two-faced demons they see.
merciless hands
in a pool of ******.
i feel out of focus,
or at least a bit seedy.
breathe in, breathe out.
i don't want to fight,
i don't want to fight,
and i never will.
i fall cold.
the idiosyncratic, the mortal, the private
watch me.
"goodbye my child,"
and the silence grows ever still.
Mary-Eliz May 2018
mirrors don’t show the entire picture
reflecting, yet there’s so much more
somewhere in the core of every person looking in
all seeking answers, questing dreams
pictures just as mirrors cannot reveal the whole
defining only that which eye of camera sees
matching not the truest spirit
overlooking hopes that lie within
garnering merely the fleshly persona
not the genuine, not the one therein
10 random letters typed on keyboard; used in order as first letter of lines; at least 5 words per line.
Katelynn May 2018
Mirrors,
Are just glass,
And those scales,
Are just numbers.

Everyday,
You rely on them.
To tell you your worth,
As if they can speak.

You let them control you,
Let them consume you,
Every thought,
Every moment.

You let others,
Control your actions,
For just a fleeting moment,
Of trying to fit in.

But what if I told you,
That isn’t needed.
What if I told you,
That you have been cheated.

Would you believe me?
If I told you that they lie,
Or how they do not truly see you,
So you don’t have to cry.

For that glass does not know,
The smiles you bring,
For that number does not know,
The joyous tunes you sing.

But darling just remember.

For that mirror,
Is just glass,
And those scales,
Are just numbers.
I feel that in society today all that we care about is fitting the "perfect image." Sometimes we become obsessed with it. We fail to realize our true value, and that mirrors and scales do not hold value. We all have our doubts sometimes, but I hope we can all realize our true worth ❤❤❤
hannah May 2018
When I tell people that I don't like the way I look I get three responses your beautiful, change it, or yeah.
But no one every asked me why I feel that way.
Harry Gione May 2018
I fall I fall
On surfaces that
Are ***** and damp and clammy and flat
I fall and land, but curtsey and stand
And while the crowds, they clap
My dress, it hangs
Over feet that cracked
I am I am
A tiny glass house
And my heart it beats under a tightly wound blouse
That accentuates my chest and shows off the rest
But carves my bones and burns my flesh
I wish I wish
Upon a star
That looks down on us
And giggles from afar
That crowds, and their parties and mirrors and reflections
Could stop biting my heels and offering objections
But since the world is just but a boat
That everyone rows to stay afloat
And since this sea ask only for performance
I'll put on my dress and dance for my audience
And as they clap as I fall but stand
I'll whisper to myself a tiny demand
That the next performance won't be so long
And the dance and prance won't finish the song
That when I jump my glass feet will shatter
And I'll disappear from space and matter
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
I look into the mirror
And what do I see?
A wizened old man
Looking back at me.
How did this happen
How did he get here?
Wasn’t I a young man
Not more than last year?

Where did the lines come from
The wrinkles and the spots?
I used to have some gray hair
Now I seem to have lots.
And am I not shorter now
Than I had seemed before?
Now my vision seems too fuzzy
To successfully ignore.

I made a mocking muscle
By bending my arm to see.
What became of my bicep?
It looks small and sort of puny.
I decided to see it all, so
I stepped a bit back and felt
A roundness, an expanse,
A pudgy fullness at my belt.

This comes from not being
A slave to my own mirror.
If I had been watching myself
My image might be clearer.
I might have seen before now
This aging, doddering old fool.
But I only looked when I had to.
Lack of boastfulness was the rule.

So I now I am a camera trick
Played by a mischievous director
Who slipped this aging body past
My doddering old **** detector.
Now it remains for me to accept
What I have long since become,
And admit that I can no longer be
As I have for decades been: numb.
Aditi Kumar Apr 2018
I looked through a make-believe mirror today,

And saw what I have forever longed to see:

Myself in another person.



Our souls were of the same colour, and our thoughts swam at the same depth.

Our lips formed the same words and our faces shifted

the same way through conversations,

Even though I am a ship

And my reflection, the horizon.



As I am, so was my reflection cold and distant at times,

Though she was right next to me.



And I have never been good company for myself;

neither was I for her

For she was cold and I was cold

So she strayed towards warmth and

Away from herself

Towards a happiness that I could not provide.

She found it among other souls and

They made a rainbow through the night.



I found my dream and lost it too;

I see my reflection every day

But now my heart is broken.
How do you bring a person back to you when you see them drifting away? Let them find happiness for themselves.
Industrial Death Apr 2018
The way of God forsaken
Fallen from heaven to summon a
Hell, of which I shall awaken.
A wanderer waning from the light
Looking for a cavernous darkness to procure
Outside of mans feeble sight.

Upon a rocky hill
Aside where dwell the willow weep
Glowed a pair of eyes, peering through
A bleak mildew cave of hybrid sleep.
Caught by the encroaching light.
With a star from the east set to rise,
A voice from the midst of the yielding night
Called me into the cave indivisible by sight.

Into the dark I went-
The plane of light ascended
Furthermore!
Brought to my feeble sight,
A beast on all four.
With a symmetry and figure
Only seen in ancient lore.

In the shadow light, the
Sun exposed a body,
With skin of black and brown adorn.
Grown and withered by the hand of age,
An accolade of flesh worn as
Garments of an elder sage.

The twilight seclusion of night
Smoldered by the light of Lucifer’s reign.
Stepping back did he out of sight
With no manner of might did he appear to
Attain!

Steeping back, evermore
Of Infinite turns
To reach a plane of void
Never conceived.
Again!
The light reached my path once more.

The figure again
Appearing inane
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