The Aftertaste

Thirty Eight

I wanted to be thin
Pretty and tall
I wanted to love mirrors
And I wanted to not see
A tragedy staring back
Every time I checked my reflection

But I guess
It doesn't really work like that

I am the wreck
Of the shattered colosseum
I once had thoughts
As loud as roaring lions
My ideas were brilliant and sharp
Like the glint of a blood-covered sword
In the hands of a fierce fighter

I was the fierce fighter
My hands aching from the tight grip
On my blood-covered sword
I have killed so many lions
Just so they could stop roaring
I have endured
And sustained
The blazing heat of the sun
Against my scarred skin

These lions left more than just their marks and echo
They left memories
Filled with terrors
I still block my ears sometimes
And I can feel the blood
Against my face
And I look at my hands
And I wonder
Who does it belong to?
Who did I really kill?

And again
I stare at the mirror
And again
I still see the wreck
And again
I still hear the roars
And so I smash it
To tiny broken bits of reminiscence
And then there's the blood
Again
It never really washed off

The blood never really went away
Even if I didn't look in the mirror
I'd still look at my hands
I'd still feel it there
And I'd remember
I'll never forget
That I'm a tragedy
And I don't need a looking glass
Or a red permanent stain
To conform it

And I guess
It's better when the mirror is shattered
Just like the colosseum
Because that way
I'll see myself pretty and thin
Because broken glass is too busy being broken
That it forgets to show you your own brokenness

Can you guys tell me what you understand from this poem?? Because it contains more than just one idea and I'd really LOVE IT if you could tell me your thoughts!