Mirrors are only windows
to self hate and depression
The media only drops toxic bombs
of fake perceptions of beauty
Destroying any chance of originality
Millions of little girl's dreams die
They become more self-aware
But not in relation to the world.
They become self-obsessed
and continue to live in unrest
until they are dull, gray, and grown.
Their minds, a wasteland
They join the rest of us.
A collective group of "grown" children
with crushed dreams
and bruised egos
Adults they like to call us.
I look back at old childhood pictures
the little girl staring back at me
through the medium of a mere photograph
is smiling and laughing
frozen in time.
She is disappointed in me
for letting her die
So now this photograph haunts me
That little girl hates me
for what I've become
bitter, blunt, and ambivalent.
She mocks me with her goofy smile
and happy eyes.
and I look back at her
I miss her.
I miss me.
We create ourselves
We invent ourselves
We are a manifestation of our experiences and thoughts
God is real
In our head.
The system was designed broken.
Created to never be fixed.
As the pleads for change get louder
It only guts the innocent and strips them bare
Leaving their broken hearts helpless
It robs them,
Living in their little boxes
They become robotic
Unmotivated and drained
From working jobs they loath
Yet they fail to acknowledge
When did they get replaced by an icy cyborg
It began briskly with the beloved Founding Fathers.
The infamous American Dream.
I see myself like the changing weather
Or like the alternating seasons
I may be falling apart or together
For why this sight I know not the reasons
Unpredictable tonight or tomorrow
The tumbling clouds adversely change like me
Frosty my sentiments that hide the sorrow
Nostalgia eats my ephemeral glee
I wish the dreaded hourglass of time would cease
Then we would lose our sense of reality
Aimlessly wondering our minds’s abyss
Waiting for an explanation to humanity
To discover our calling in this finite life
Will forever be an infinite internal strife
— The End —