Yours Truly, Me.

The Man in the Mirror

 Showering late at night, I'm stuck thinking of you,

Staring in the mirror, but steam clutters the view.

Gazing at the figure looking back at me,

Cataloging all the things distracting me.

Admiring the reflection of everything I'll never be,

Wondering how I stray so far from my own history.

Because the man in the mirror is just a collection of lies,

From the way that he talks down to the lack of tears in his eyes.

It's crazy how the glass tells me exactly who I'm not,

How it fails to project the part of me that shows when I'm distraught.

It's funny how we value looks over all of our feelings,

It's funny how we hate the crooks instead of all their dealings.

It's funny how we're more concerned with what people will see,

Instead of letting ourselves be proud of who we've grown to be.

It's crazy how my reflection fails to show the missing pieces,

It hides my flaws and all my folds, it flattens out my creases.

It's incredible that the ones we love may never feel the same,

But even greater is how we know all of this yet manage to stay sane.

"Welcome to the world," he says, "where people pretend to care,

A place where, in your darkest hour, no one will be there."

"But why," I asked, "are people so afraid of who they are?

How come no one else really seems to think that it's bizarre?"

"Welcome to society," he said, "please enjoy the lies,

But please ignore the way the people plead with silent cries."

"Why can't we just be ourselves," I asked, "what happened to the trust?

Why can't we all support each other, why can't we just be just?"

"Welcome to humanity," he said, "where we're all ruled by our fears.

A place where everyone is rushing to get away from all their peers."

"I just don't understand," I cried, "I really can't conceive

If things right here are this awful, why won't anyone leave?"

"Welcome to hell," my reflection laughed, "it is a little strange,

But as long as society is scared, there's no way for it to change."