I hate the mirror
for the truth in it
shows how it can
disgusts myself.
I hate the mirror
for the mind
keep cursing
at the vision
of myself.
I cannot blithe
of what it is;
my brain
is broken,
I can't see
the good
in front of it.
I keep on asking,
"Why people love mirror?
When it just makes your mind filled with terror?"
But the mind said that,
"They love illusion,
they accept reality in distortion
when it's just an imaginary vision;
they satisfy themselves with confusion while the truth, they only see hallucination."
YOU ARE READING
Dusty Ink.
PoetryThis is where my soul hides. It is a book full of words that combines into an art. My only runaway mess of reality. It is a pack of love, heartbreak, and the dark side of me put into one. So, here I scream my thoughts, will you feel my scars?
