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Getting Through : Creative Writing

What is it you see in the mirror?

from Joey - Wednesday, February 01, 2006
accessed 938 times

Reach out and grab what's there for you....

What is it you see in the mirror?
A puzzled face so frustratingly familiar,
Or a picture of beauty, confident and true.
If it's the first not the last, do you know why it's so?
Or is the answer buried like a diamond ring below six feet of snow?
Do you wait till it melts
Or start digging straight away?
The answer to this question in my mind stays,
For far too long,I'm singing songs
And muttering rhymes without meaning.
How is it so I can glow dispite all my incomplete healing
I relate to a world of hate,
Miserable and spitefull,
But at the same time I'll be sitting in a field
Grass lit with an irridessent glow.
Is it madness or incompletion,
That has us bound in a mental space?
Forever seeningly dealing ace after ace.
Beating down the pleasant place that took so long to create.
My head is bursting yet it's thirsty to know what's within it's fate.
Was it destiny or bigotry that has me standing in this place?
Surrounded by so many with only a few able to relate.
Knowing me wholely and solely,
Yet I'm open as a book,
Standing with a clean slate
Ready to be understood.

I could ramble and rave
For a year and not save
A single piece of information
Save the feeling of indignation.
No one would get it then all of a sudden...
Walking past my abstract scene,
One person who has never been
Anywhere near my world so is clean,
Yet understands so many things and gleams
Solice and peace from rambling words.
Sees future in a mind that to others is absurd.
How is it that a series of magnetic poles
Have come now to meet?
And in such a way that to the outside seems discrete.
I've wondered and waited for a time in my life like this!
Is it really happening, I'm exploding yet something's amiss.
I have a goal and a direction
Yet the path is unclear,
All the things I'm seeing
Still I feel blind and full of fear.
The first step is the one
I dred more than any other to take.
Can I step off the edge
And leave the rest to fate?
Or is there something somewhere guiding me?
Pulling as if by a nose ring.
Purely mine is the uncertainty.

I should ask myself what it is I see in the mirror.
Confidence or a mask of terror.
Can I answer that question with honesty yet?
Or will it take another level,
Or seventeen changes in mindset?
To see the things I'm meant to see.
Standing on an outpost out on the ocean
Bum on a free floating platform planted in a seat.
Eyes outward staring for years
At a horizon dripping with tears.
The slightest glitch or hint of a bump,
Stirs emotion then it slumps
Down as the illusion of change drifts away.
The currents in control
Of your travel day by endless day.
Falling into sleepless dreams your eyes close.
An eternity passes till day and night form indestinguishable seams,
Of a garment you're forced to wear.
Outlook glazed as the flat horizon is etched
On your retinas.

A bump sends a startled feeling to your bones
What the fuck hit me
There's no lumps or stones
I can see on my horizon
Still flooded with tears and tears.
Eyes take an hour to regain focus.
Then it becomes disturbingly clear.
You've been birthed in a marina,
Facing the wrong way.
Staring out to the ocean
Instead of the direction of the resort.
So absorbed by your own head space
Didn't hear the music nor dance.
All the while freedom was well within your grasp.
All you had to do was reach out and ask.
One degree of reality,
Threw you out for years.
I'm writing saying you
While looking at myself weeping.
The image staring back at me
In the mirror
In the mirror.


Reader's comments on this article

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from Bootylicious
Monday, February 06, 2006 - 07:05

Loved it, I can relate.
(reply to this comment)

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