'I am a perfect mirror,
Reflecting back
Only those images
And impressions
Which are acceptable
To the one seeking truth.
Everybody's friend, I have listened
And soothed, and said
The right things, until
There is no more honest me left
To contradict, or create controversy,
In my beige, vanilla life.
Inspiration, fleeting, runs from me,
While I waste my time pontificating,
With little thought,
As I slowly lose sight
Of my hidden feelings
And genuine beliefs.
My thoughts struggle for release
From the prison in my head,
Built to contain them as
I mindlessly,
endlessly,
Pushed them away.
Inside me, a battle rages,
Between my reality and my potential;
Pointed words like spears,
Hurled by myself at myself,
Draw spiritual blood
In this war for my integrity.'
That's a pretty little poem, neat description of inability to choose which one is real - me or my reflection ? What's out there? On the other side? Would you like to find out?
ReplyDeleteI would.But doesn't matter how hard I will try, I' ll never discover a completely true image- only a distorted version of myself, probably more acceptable one:) you know how it works:)
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