Looking into the mirror,
I see a 'me' whose image is distorted.
By the expectations of the society.
The 'me' in the mirror smiles back,
Just as I smile, but I can see it's fake.
The real 'I' cries from inside,
With the pain breaking me down.
The mirror 'me' has a poker face.
With heavy eyes glistening softly.
The 'me' sits coy and demure in the mirror.
Whist the real 'I', wild-eyed with euphoria,
With tousled hair and emboldened spirit,
Continues to be the 'me'
That 'I' really wanna be.
YOU ARE READING
MUSINGS OF A SOLIVAGANT
PoetryJust like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her. Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
