I looked in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw,
The mirror shattered now holding space for an empty wall,
I hated the tree that would shed leaves in the fall,
When it was cut down there was no shade from the essence that once stood tall,
I cried when I was lonely that I couldn’t be loved,
She didn’t leave my side even when my suspicions shoved,
I aches that it hurt to be so attached,
But when nothing was there it felt like writing poems with math,
When he was there I compared us obsessively,
When he died I could only remember the love he had given me,
I tried to starve to be closer to God,
I cried and whimpered when death loomed like a newspaper over a dog,
When dying was near I chose to live,
When mania is exploding the aftermath and repercussion do life give,
Responsibility of being composed,
Composing responsibilities to feel better about getting old,
Bitter and sweet on the same tongue I taste,
Biting until bleeding making my senses a waste,
The decisions of the heart and the mind come from the same place,
To be and to bleed are bound by a common space,
The wall is empty,
The tree is gone,
His memories are lonely,
She deserved to move on,
Life and death are a balance on a curve,
Responsibility and composure,
With contentment I have heard,
Will forever foster and breed closure,
To live is to learn.
Sometimes it’s all about perspective.
