When I look into my mirror,
What is it that I see?
Just who is that face,
Looking back at me?
I see eyes that have cried,
So many tears it's true.
But not just in sadness,
But in happiness too.
I see lips that have smiled,
Complete from ear to ear.
But they have also said things,
My parents wouldn't want to hear.
I've seen things I wish I hadn't,
I've said things I wish I'd kept inside.
But I've also seen such wonders,
And said many things so dignified.
I love my reflection,
It's a map of everything 'me'.
I'm proud of that visual echo,
And all that it can be.

Have you ever just seen the normal things?
I really see them

Like the intricately woven fingers of a Conifer leaf
The riveting shades of green that changes like the colour of the ocean
The light green spills over the dark, in a wild but beautiful contrast

Like the smokey rust of an autumn orange leaf
Falling ambivalently
Where the wind blows
Like the crisp ruby of a freshly picked raspberry
The deep, angry knots locked in wood
Or the spiralling beanstalk, climbing and reaching

The plume of colour of a flower
Pebbles lapping against a woven patio

Take some time to really see something, for the first time.

eyes clouded,
only in my dreams I can truly see,

see you as you are,
see me,
you see,

my dreams of us
is what we should be,
let the clouds clear
so we can see clearly

open skies,
my eyes
reflect you
as you are,

see you as you are,
see me,
you see,

you are,
without a doubt,
a endless sensation
that resides in me

affection I feel,
love, I harbor,
a part of you in me,
infinity.

Everyone’s been looking
to be seen

Reflective deflections
attempted perfection
detecting surrections

I see
you
see me
through
and through

What's that?
In the distance?
A life?
That's distant.
That's different.
That's dumb.
Existence.
Just finish this.
Where am I?
Why am I here?
Where all I know is to cry...
And also to fear.
Where all I see...
Is the end is near.
Over here,
Over there.
Overgrowth.
Taken unfair.
New.
A smoky rising.
To corrupt the lesser.
New.
A ideal rising.
To corrupt the blesser.
It's not a rue.
There is more than a few.
So call to the angels.
Call to the gods.
Call to whatever,
Even if it's not a facaude.
You see me staring off,
Something in the distance.
The fake ideal,
Of love and praise.
Falling out,
Through the haze.
My ideals and desires,
Floating down.
Paper scraps.
They make me frown.
So what do I see,
Just barely in the distance.
Me.

By Arcassin Burnham


Future Muchers , Mass shooters,
***** to be a sad loser,
Once a upon a time I use to think it was a real confuser,
If It was me and her and not you,
When it comes to love , what is a truther ?
Pinecone the brain , what is a minimum wage? A pity reducer,
The words that say leave you ****** like Medusa,
Mythical , Mystical put a spell on ya,
The brightest of being aware , super nova,
Astral , Astral , a self healing coma.

All Seeing,
Want To Be All Seeing.