Tragic mirror


What you see ain’t what I see
What I see is the real me

What do people see when I’m wearing my chameleon
Young man, old man, middle aged freak?
A sinner to the richeous to the devil I’m a villain
Cool dude, weirdo, out of touch geek?

People see the mask I wear and choose their favorite section
I look in the tragic mirror to see my own reflection
I reveal the piece of me which I choose for your display
You never see the lonely boy retreating in dismay

If you peer inside my onion you’ll reveal the inner peels
Strip away the many layers and find out how he feels
Behind the flesh below the muscle each and every bone
There lay a frantic framework of a hidden ghost alone

Dreadfully abandoned a scattered skeleton on the floor
Trembling bones too petrified to venture past the door
So afraid of what’s in store across that morbid portal
Panicked I may reveal myself to every other mortal

Fake award Get ignored
While idiots are crossing swords

A provocation a Mutilation
Dying is a strong temptation

Pity sorrow and dejection
Waiting for the resurrection

Desperation Isolation
Another lie a fabrication

Melancholy full of bleakness
Living in a world of weakness

Do we see the mask we wear and not the face behind it
If we attempt to see that face will we ever find it
Can they see the lives we store high upon our shelves
Who am I? who are you? do we even know ourselves?

No one pays attention to that man behind the curtain
Although he looks all powerful inside he may be hurtin’
If we took the time and effort to pull the curtain back
We might find an empty space in time to fill the crack

If you care to see yourself in a light that shines much clearer
Take a stare if you dare into your tragic mirror

6 thoughts on “Tragic mirror

  1. Powerfull poem. I believe that we all experience personal tragedies on certain levels, which may have a greater impact on one than another. Masks we wear we use as protection, it’s hard to be alone to stare at your reflection. Believing in yourself is what makes you rise above others. Peace

      1. You are welcome! I guess you can call it that way too. I am a chef who once went through everything this poem is about, then writing helped me get through it. I do sometimes write poems like “Shine like toasted almonds” just never got to publish them but will update accordingly. Thanks and take care.

      2. tough industry but when its in your blood your stuck with it. Always wanted to write myself but cheffing was how I expressed myself for many years. Now I’m trying to make up for it by writing all kinds of shit. Congrats on getting through BS and still being able to stand proud!! Peace

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