I don't like the way my face looks back at me.
Eyes shot wide open yet with not a single expression
except for the determination to shatter to pieces.
Just figuring out a way how to get my mind on track.
On a path of self destruction with no care
of who it might drag along down into the depths,
because they must reach their goal.
No matter the cost. No matter the hurt.
For if all were to die it wouldn't matter
as long as my body was buried in the grave aswell.
That face, determined and disheveled.
I wonder if it reflects me, someone I've always been.
My eyes have their gaze fixed on their own
staring back at myself and I wonder.
For if it meant that all I care would meet it's end
then would I be selfless enough to deflect?
Would I then keep fighting if it meant
you didn't have to keep up your defence?
The eyes in the mirror look back at me
as I wonder if those truly are, well, mine.
For I know what choice they'd make,
they'd do anything to reach their goal.
Give, yet rather take.
I don't like looking at my eyes, my face.
YOU ARE READING
p is pronounced like pay in dutch
Poetrypoems, just poems wanted a cute little place to save all of my poetry. sometimes my notes app gets a little too silly and then it deletes all my notes.. no way... if ur reading this, enjoy lol <3 ‼️I don't usually title any of my work so nearly ever...
