The Man In My Mirror
There dwells another man in my mirror and it’s not me
The obvious differences, between us, I want the people to see.
The man in my mirror is bitter and sulks all day and night
Have tried to reason but is inside there by himself and uptight.
With caution treads the pathways of the mirror frame
With Stained grief & disbelief, joy run down the drain.
Despair dulls the shinning gloss of the mirrored reflect
Misery fill up the erupting crevices of the mirror edges and light deflect.
A fearful dismay reflection he has now become
Leaving behind, a life easy going, joy & fun
The baggage of the past he does carry,
Get heavier with time but he makes no effort to dig & bury.
His love to live and the lust for success is just like a distant dream
there on the inside he rests on sorrow and depression so it seems.
In the back drop of the dark silent night he looks all decayed by ruthless wear and tear,
Sounds like a howling wounded wolf his ascending scream decibels are terrible to bear.
Cant see or smell or feel or hear or touch him in there
can sense his vibes very clearly emitted of “I don’t care”.
As they plague the corners of my room
And they spread through the polished mirror a mist of gloom.
Brown forlorn eyes they erupt with blankness as he stares
The venom in his heart and the mask of worry on his face to reveal he dares.
The man in my mirror “his fight” he plans to give up,
His life to the sorrow’s brink he has pushed abrupt.
False beliefs he has mulled and hosted over
Till they have become mind’s parasital truth that linger he has no cover.
Though I have braved to tell him to stop awhile and think,
He will not consent to himself to find the origin: from inside or insane thought’s brink.
Of late he has begun to fettle himself through life’s fine line,
that he can change course and guide his thoughts to be worthy and fine.
he stares at me through the mirror waiting for my portent sign
Answered by my silence &deafening muteness waiting for his reflection in my mind to align.
As of now
There is an another man in my mirror and it’s not me
The obvious difference, I can make out but all must see.
He is everything I do not wish to be,
am going to put an end to me being his envy.
Till a time such as then.
carry on low, slow, silent but repeated again and again.
Slow, silent going gone
To him it’s a new beginning, a new dawn
Now there is a man in my mirror and it’s me
And I am proud that in the reflection they can perceive a new me
Copyright © Sashi Prabhu | Year Posted 2012
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