I view you
as words
many people think they’ve interpreted correctly
so they speak of you as if they truly have
there all the bad sounds go
and meet with all the wrong meanings
as poems
everyone has dissected to find
too little meaning and too shallow depth
as paintings
they admire the colors and representations
on lucky times the story behind that
underwent too many unwily guesses
and end up a wrong conclusion
as songs
sung at the highest pitch then the lowest one
that they don’t go with the melody for which they’re meant to blend with

I view myself
as the author, the poet, the painter, the composer
for I like to think I know you
as if I shaped you
that I give the right background story
I can define then undefine you
and know exactly where you’ll be
everywhere you’ve ever been to
and all you have become
that only I can understand you
the way you want to be understood

How many times a day do you look at yourself in the mirror?*

One
In the morning when I wake, I walk to the mirror and flash a smile that's fake
One you may mistake as that of genuine glee but really it is sad if you look closely

Two
In the bathroom when I wash my face, I stand ahead of the mirror and see someone unamazed
Two lives to live and two more to waste,
Skip this one, move on with haste

Three
In the sunlight when I'm out for a break, I hold out a mirror that reflects the sunshine's wake
Three strikes of sun rays to my eyes and two to burn my skin
I'd say one thing, even the light that brightens your day could sin

Four
In the afternoon when the wind is silent, I ask the mirror where my former self went
Four seasons and three good moments have passed, she's still not here
Two pm, in the mirror stands the one I fear

Five
In the later time of the day when the sun is setting, I speak to the mirror to the girl who's weeping
Five fingers she has but on the fourth sorrow she lost track
Three hours more to be spent by two dead eyes that refuse even one smile back

Six
In the blanket that is home, I wonder if my reflection were a poem
Six lines to write with five unexplained phrases
Four rhymes out of sight and three pity beer bottle cases
Two nights alone, I am one with the mirror without others' faces

Someday
A prince will come
But not on a horse
And not with his knights
Most especially,
Not to me