whenever my eye ever dares to be
attracted to a reflective surface,
i often cannot stop myself
from concealing these tumors on my chest.
and for a brief moment,
a free spirit stares back.
their eyes water, for they feel lost;
yet, a flicker of hope
flashes through all their sorrow.
in time, this body that they reject
will become their prized possession.
they will gain the ability
to recognize their body as their own.
their reflection will smile slightly,
exhausted and beaten, yet reassuring.
"we made it," it'll whisper. "we're home."
YOU ARE READING
Vent Book
PoetryA combination of random sayings, songs or poems that I'll randomly jot down sometimes.
