I stare in the mirror,
Sheen long divorced from clean,
The layer of dust
Just prevents total clarity.
Tufts of greying hair
Share space
With angry scars.
Sunken eyes despise me,
Pupils dilated,
Decorated
With thin red veins.
Nose twisted
Unapologetic,
Thin lips,
Drawn back over
Yellow teeth,
Broken
Like a row of condemned
Tenements.
Chin
Resting on fat
And rotting jowls.
I lift thin tapered fingers,
Run them through
Luxurious locks,
Caress firm cheekbones
And on to proud
And jutting jaw.
What I see in this mirror
Of mine,
Is not the vision
Others see,
It is just
The true reflection
Of the soul,
Inside of me.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
