Mirrors Of The Broken Reflection

In a hall of mirrors, the most beautiful and true,

I stare into them, as we all will have to.

I look into my face, and see only lies,

I cannot see the soul that dwells behind my eyes.

The images crowd over me, encasing me within their depths,

Suffocating and drowning me, till they break my last breath.

They cry, and they scream, willing to be me,

But none of them are, and none of them will be.

I cannot hold back, I’m trying to give in,

But the cracked mirror calls out to me, from my pain within.

I stare into it, willing to be free,

I can see the truth in a facet so like me.

The mirror may be broken but it shows my soul,

Which all the complete mirrors failed to behold.

The pain inside and the truth I need,

Can all be seen in a mirror distorted, cracked, and wanting to be freed.


(Feel free to email me if you have any queries, ides, thoughts, etc on this poem.)