Imagine glass could paint a picture
Your favorite self, your life's predictor.
What would you see standing there?
A perfect face? Complexion fair?
Heaps of money swarming you,
A mansion with a lakeside view?
What would your dream job then become?
Still remember what you came from?
What would you see inside your eyes
When you watch as your past dies?
Who would be there, upon your right?
Would love survive through future sight?
How much you change, how much you grow
How much you've let your past self go.
But most of all, answer this true,
Would you even still see you?
YOU ARE READING
Inside my Head
PoetrySad poetry to make you cry. This deals with negative self-image, depression, hurt, loss and anything else that involves heartache in general.
