Relfection poems on Hello Poetry

Quinn Sep 2012

control

i am holding my towel, mid-air,
arm outstretched,
fingers clenched,
with a millisecond to decide
if i throw it in

i hate that i've gotten this far,
but lately it's all fast forward
with little retraction, relfection, or restriction

i spend hours in the mirror
trying to see myself,
but there's this big headed *****
with green eyes full of envy
and a gaping hole of a mouth
full of excuses,
that refuses to get out of the way

Harmony Englert Dec 2013

Mirror

For the longest time I avoided looking into the mirror
Terrified of my reflection.
Scared of the monster i had tried so hard to conceal.
Year after year, I barely gave more than a passing glance
Until that fateful day.
Curiosity overcame fear.
What i saw blew my mind.
My monster was nothing more than a girl.
Laugh lines, worry lines, and imperfections marred her face.
Freckles scattered across her cheeks.
Messy head of curls framed her features.
It was her eyes that caught my attention.
Such a dark brown her pupils got lost in them.
But her eyes told the most wondrous story.
It was a tale of fear.
Fear of the unknown
Fear of never being loved
Fear of never measuring up.
It was a tale of happiness.
Happy to be alive.
Happy to have a home and a family intact.
Happy to know she always had a place in this world.
It was a tale of anger.
Anger over being held back.
Anger over being lied to.
Anger about falling in love just to have her heart broken.
It was a tale love.
Love from family and friends.
Love from softball, her true love.
Love from the fact she was alive and well.
But most importantly it was a tale of life.
The ups and the downs
The smiles and tears
Friendships and betrayals
They all play a role in shaping a person.
This girl in the mirror may have been young but she had lived and continues to live. Her smiles conquer her tears. She learned to dance in the rain without the umbrella.
My monster in the mirror was nothing more than a relfection of the person i am.

Never be afraid of your reflection

LycanTheThrope Aug 2015

I've Already Lost

I'm sitting here
Staring at the floor
The tears streaming down my face
Sobs overtaking my lungs and racketing throughout my chest
It already hurts enough
Maybe it's the bruises on my ribs,
Or my demented mind that's stuck on depression
Or maybe the fact that I've been trying to pick up these pieces
And fit then together
It always falls apart
I try so hard
Taking these shards of glass
Attempting to make a perfect reflection
I've cut myself again
Sometimes all I do is stare at my wrists
Watching the blood flow over
Spilling
My life is ebbing away
And with every weakening heartbeat
All I can think about
Is how I've lost

Somehow
I sit up
I don't know why I try anymore,
But I do
I wipe the blood off of the pieces
And puzzle it back together
Finally, it holds a relfection
When I get past the cracks spiderwebbing across the pane,
The red edges pointed out at my skin,
And when my eyes adjust to the darkness
All I see is a broken figure staring back at me.

That's nothing to hang on the wall.

Not at all fabricated or intricate.
What I feel at the moment.

Errol Munroe Oct 2014

He was...

He was the grey sky during the roughest weathers
with mental afflictions as loud as thunder
and a knife as sharp as lightening

He was a darker blue than the fathomless depths of the ocean
yet had eyes just as deep
with waves that drowned out his pleas
and always kept him drowning to stay afloat

He was the night sky without the grace of stars
the lonely moon
the howl of the lost wolf
the crack of a feeble branch

he was the rain
the damp soil
the little puddle created, staring up at his relfection

Writer's note:
the first stanza introduces the boy as depressed with unsettling thoughts and a motive of self harm
the second stanza shows just how depressed he was and how it affected him
the third stanza has many meanings, one being he was alone and breaking
the last stanza shows his fall/death (the rain) and jumping to the last 2 stanzas was his puddle (his blood) looking up at himself (he was the grey night sky)

Tricia Trout Oct 2010

Reflection in the Mirror

My fists tightly clenched,
I'm standing in front of the mirror.
I'm glaring at my reflection,
Hating the girl I see.
I watch the tears trail down my cheeks.
I stare into my own eyes,
Letting the anger build,
Letting it festeer inside me.
I let out a cry of rage,
And my left fist hits the mirror,
Right where my reflected face is.
The glass shatters and tinkles as it hits the counter.
I pull my arm back and swing again,
Ignoring the shards embedded in my knuckles.
More glass breaks, sprinkling onto the countertop.
There's blood now, trickling down my wrist.
I see it but don't heed it.
My reflection is broken,
Scattered into a thousand pieces.
Just looking into my ruined relfection,
Jaggedly repeated,
I let out a hoarse cry
And drop to my knees.
I put my hands on the top of my head,
One over the other,
And bend over my knees,
Crying openly,
My sobs echoing throughout the bathroom.
I can feel the damp warmth of my blood
Seeping onto my hair and scalp.
My cries become louder,
Turning in to high, keening wails.
There are bits of mirror beneath my knees,
Biting into my skin and drawing more blood.
I squeeze my eyes shut,
Not wanting to see the pieces of glass,
Sparkling coldly in the artificial light.

I've never actually hit a mirror, but I've come close. I have broken a bus window however...

Lauren Gorger Jan 2015

As The Tables Turn

Is it possible to harbor "too much" love?
Does it blind those that look into these eyes, like when you look directly into the sun?
My eyes are tired and burn in the darkness of night, and I'm not sure if that's a relfection of being one with the light or being tired from this endless fight.
We spin on turntables of various perspectives.
The tables turn and our hearts turn aggressive.
A voice that shakes like unstable breaks, makes me want to thank the way these words easily become written all over my face.
You don't have to look too far, just look into my eyes - a demise that is out of sight.
It might be the right time to end all that should die inside of these rhymes.
Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong, but that is the beauty in life - we still have the freedom to create our own song.
So, we walk.
We walk to the beat of our dreams, yelling "**** what you see me to be, I believe in all the words that they never could sing to me!"
Aggression gently hidden by a message.
Answers, always ridden on the wrong end of the question.
This is my confession - I walk to a song of everything I reckon, through these turntable eyes.
Recognize, my demise won't be televised.

- L.G

Tamurray Mar 2014

What You See

I need someone to talk to about my problems and issues
maybe even someone just to toss me a tissue
Oh no forgive me did I just cry?
Well I'd rather do that than ya know die
Life is too short to limit yourself
To want the wealth instead of good health
You look in the mirror hate what you see
Cuz it don't fit the definition of beauty
You won't stop until you hit perfection
Until that definition is your relfection.

Quiet Rose Feb 2018

My Reflection

In my reflection
All I see
Is a lost girl
Trying to find her way
A lost girl that is constantly being reminded
Of everything bad in her life
A girl that is hiding behind a fantom
Nothing more than a girl
That is alone
And afraid

My reflection is full of hate
It hates me just as I hate it
My reflection tries to look good
My reflections tries to like me
I try to like my reflection
I wish my reflection would change
And be pretty for once

A broken mirror
Shattered into pieces
Glass everywere
I am happy now
I don't have to see my relfection
My lost girl
My ugly side
My lost hope to be...
Pretty

— The End —