War With The Mirror

I gaze at the picture this glass wall produces
I pierce through the eyes looking back at me
And I see the one thing I fought so hard to hide from everybody
I see hurt. I see pain. I see the tears of cellophane.
The salt water building up inside the hazel brown world
This water burns this world surrounded by white.
A fire of anger has engulfed me;
as though I were surrounded by the dark force called my body
yearning to be free; "RELEASE ME!," I screamed;
but not even an echo was heard...

I am capable of going beyond the means;
I am worth more than a "good friend"
Yet I limit myself to this desolate and empty feeling
the feeling of only loving by half.
You can not understand it because you are not me;
nor do I want you to understand because there are better things to feel.
And even though I stand in my zone
If I cannot be loved here, where can I be?
Now I want to give up, now I want to die
though I can't because I'm such a good friend.
But I don't want to be anymore. I just don't...

All of a sudden, I became one of them.
I don't like what the glass wall is showing me.
Because no one else likes what the glass wall is showing me.
And in my distaste, I strike the glass wall;
each falling piece a vision of my shattered dreams.
And for now, until I stand against another wall,
I have won the war with the mirror.

Absolut Terry @ 10:22 PM| link