Blue skies, city lights
in this broad planet
You can feel small,
and you'll never know why
Look at the mirror,
let out a pitiful sigh
Ask your reflection, "who am I?"
only to never hear a reply
You look away;
as silence pierces through your lungs,
you ask the person in front of you
if you were good
.
.
.
.
.
.
enough
"no," they said.
You shall yearn for things you cannot attain,
envy to bring thyself more excruciating pain,
tell one the untruth just like you do to, I.
Face the mirror,
find yourself,
and meet me in due time.
Lost and stuck in a trance.
I still don't like the self that I see in the mirror every day.
Yet, pointing every part of myself out is the only way to keep me from dreaming too much along with its pain.
Being left to dream the impossible is the thing I despise,
for I cannot do what I want, and this leaves me inside a cage of lies.
Made by my own hands and mind.
