Mirror,
is this who I've become?
A blank face with no emotion,
or the burning eyes full of hatred for myself.
The movement through the day sluggishly,
as if the ground is reaching up and pulling
me down.
The smile I once had in photographs,
the echo of a laugh in recordings.
Is this who I've become?
A ghost of who I was?
Mirror answer me,
why won't you answer me.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryPoems, just poems. This is pretty much my notebook, where I write down stray thoughts and ideas. These poems are not always about me or anyone specific. Highest Ranking: #53 6/8/17 #106! 4/25/17 #94! 4/26/17 #85! 4/27/17 #78! 5/1/17 #71 5/8/17...
