The girl in the mirror

Who is she?
The girl in the mirror,
I don't recognise her anymore,
Sometimes she looks at the distance,
Her ghostly looks
Send through me a shiver,
Her lips move
But I can't hear a word she utters

And then she zeroes in on me again
Her eyes go vacant,
Her  face goes grave
And I realise
She is no longer there,
Just a ghost
A shadow
Of who she once was
Still haunting
The body she used to dwell in

A heart
Forced to beat.
Who stole the light in those eyes?
Her face looks familiar,
Yet so estranged.

I take a step towards her,
She does too.
I move my hand,
And she follows
The realisation came,
The girl In the mirror,
Is no one else
But myself.
Dark circles,
Creating a contrast against her pale skin
It is so hard to look
At the jagged cuts all across her thighs.
Who would ever be gentle
Across her jagged cuts?
Who would pull her up,
From the midnight thoughts she has been sinking in
Farther and farther?
Who else,
If not she, herself?

She is the anchor
Weighing her wings down,
But she also has the power of wind
That won't be bound.
She is sunshine and darkness both,
In her own world
And she must and she will learn
How to balance the colors
To create a perfect picture


So tonight is the time
To fall in love with the girl in the mirror
Oh yes,
The girl in the mirror
Found herself,
The girl in thr mirror
Stopped looking for help.

she realised
Perfection is perceptional
And not itself perfect.

Beware of her,
For you have not seen her best yet.
One day she will show the world the
Art she carries within herself.

It's the cherry smelling fragrance
That's got my worries becoming vacant
That look in your eyes makes me feel so peutrbational
Because your presence is so sensational
You doubt yourself in everything you do
But the actions you take are very astute
Sometimes beauty makes someone become mute
The gift of vision adds onto your alluring existence
A good guy has to keep his persistence
Because if he falls through the cracks
A woman won't give him slack
But a good man doesn't force his woman to respond out of subordinate regimentation
But out of humble communseration and transparent sincerity
The keys to social prosperity
That leads to your twentieth anniversary
The day that makes your history necessary
Now that I take my first few steps
I hope I don't come off as scary
If I'm delivering my heart I better be able to be the canary
Because when I think of you it's just perceptional clarity
As I look into your eyes I envision us surrounded in deep emblazon chanting "just marry me already"
Under the the mistletoe
As the snows hits the earth
I take the bite out of frost and frost out of frost
Then I snap out of my vivid daydream just to look speechless and lost
But the reflection of your cherry lip gloss complells me to speak
No matter what I won't come off as weak
I'll protect you as I speak
A day without you in my arms will be a day I must slowly cope
For the time you return is what I plan to hope
To each of their own
I hope you'll be my own
As I slowly reiterate reality into my conscious
I keep my heart cautious
Praying that I played the right card
And to win the blessing of being part of your endlessly flawless presence

Rude transitional
Vessel conquering
Reaching deeply
Trying each level
Time succession
Rapidly grappling
Softness intensity
Discharging ether
Fuel dark whisp(er)
Paint syncopated
Drawing transition
Hole opens deeply
Perceptional peep(s)
Doubtlessly abated
Strings form syringe
Encapsulated chords
Rupture stagnate air
Steering mind's Roar

drinking isn't funny all the time, you become too *****, have men forgotten that alcohol is an aphrodisiac? me, drunk, brothel? ***** every time.

you can stroll down a street,
walk past an english youngling -
evidently sexually conscious
given the attire...
   never mind the age:
she's english, and you walk past
her, and she starts to quicken her
step...
   she looks at least agitated
but at the same time more
apprehensive than agitated...
you walk past a father and two
boys, and the boys start
looking at you with a certain
type of curiosity...
you walk into a supermarket,
take four czech beers -
  (cheque? check, chequers?
horvat - croat) -
and at the counter: a pretty
muslim girl, pale olive,
      wearing a hijab... and:
bam! the immediate perceptional
difference: she considers you
a testosterone battery,
   she's curious, like a deer,
  she attempts to hide a smile...
what was it?
                              a beard...
i watched a video about beards
being misogynistic,
about lumber-******...
       there actually is a phobia:
pogonophobia...
               that's for women...
but there's also
   *trichopathophobia
   (fear of long hair on men)
that's expressed by men, contra men...
then there's pixiephilia:
   men who love women with
short hair...
      i ****** well know, i fall
into the pixiephilic category...
i had long hair,
  she had manky dreads,
she cut them off,
          bam! pixiephilia was born;
darling... cut it short while
you're young...
   every see an old woman with
long hair?
               anyway...
god, i love burping while drinking
beer...
     common practice
              among the swabians:
and good manners too!

The same opinions were repeatedly expressed by everyone.
Nothing changed in life.
Only time had caused a perceptional shift.

Here we are discriminating forms of art and poetry.
Denying each other acceptance
and credibility.
Judging how we talk, or rhyme,
or how dope our flows should be.
Coming in and criticizing.
Basically falling just short of micromanaging.

We all strive for the same types of things.
Wasting time and energies.
Spitting venom still.
How we representing 'unity'?
When each others pride we ****?
Do you even feel?

I mean feel........the lyrics?
What we may be saying?
Pay attention to the vibes,
and different tracks that we're laying?
Dissing opponents,
never shaking hands.
Who ever is bigger and badder,
is the winning man?
Dam that is a mentality I never could fathom.
Want or need some props,
here ya go you can have em'.

You see, for me.
I'd rather keep the peace.
Give you a hug or a fist bump,
I'll love you like we're family
For you, and you, and all of them.
Someone else who just might need a friend.
Someone to sync with.
Someone to help them glow.
Maybe connect everyone,
with a common knowledge or flow!
Hell I don't know!
But I'll dream.
Create a beautiful lucid scene.
Where every one is welcome
up on my shoulders to lean.
So pace yourself while labeling,
to your perceptional liking.
But show some respect.
You never know,
who they might be.

So I don't apologize for,
not being 'hard' ya'll.
Because life's hard enough,
without pointing out flaws

Man captures more of the unpredictable mission
Vision convicted up midst in plightful souls
Call's attempt had been brought down for your repent
Cast out the odd and old, ring in the new
Few had got the work that's been left for us

Refuse in your days of age to become bad memory
Carry on still with the life as that of a Shepherd
Shedd; it was on many occasions we were with him
Shame, leaving out the poor wife, and a little boy an orphan
Brighton kicked the bucket on nineteen, his family was strained
Dead with perceptional talents, Perfect was so perfect

Mate the same happened to you, dying so young
Among us, who's to pass on next, we'll never know it
Late it may come; everyone shall pass the sorrowful sow
All we only have is the life based on sentimental
Judgemental will reveal at last, prevailing the lust
Fast moving is the time that we have, just imagine this

This is the preparational period for the lasting ever
Favor it is, and blissful it is to put much hope in death
Faith without pure actions is wasted effort
Content is there, show mighty in lightful practices
Tears eventually tickle down with folded grief to seize pain

Plain truth; we cry for meeting you up, not that you're gone,
Wrong impressions lifted up by bad decisions
Days were thrown, and all i could, i wrote
Fought vigorously in harshness, life's phases
Pass it on, Peter reach petter, and failed to make it with you

Blue skies were my clues to find hue
Glue it onto your mind, not to err
Everson was ever the son of the Legendary Ronald
Lloyd was with eager to see Arnold succeed
Indeed Sophia the old lady was so sophisticated
Educated were all the people who passed through school and church

Teach about the collection books' looks
Crookes were from my time an usual fate
What later happened to Marvin the bride's groom
From their boom, had they found genius in expectance
Existence was it ever with the presidents and prophets
                                  
Folks in foreign lands, did they ever came back home
Game of making it is it still with my fellow Owen
Men across the river are they making any progress
Seriously bad, the last time I checked Romario was a chain smoker
Tracker on the invisible prints that’s were reality resides
Ravis; did he made it out with all the hope
Pope Francis after Benedict had he managed to change the world

Mildly I’ve hope that you buried me swiftly in the sand