I’m trying to stare better at my image.
I look upon myself when I sleep
A troubled sleep!
I turn wearily, with the voices in my head,
Whirling– in circles, hurting, wounding,
Wrapping me, enclosed, lost, in time, in memories.
I will find in the future, the mirror.
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My fingers clutched these reflections,
And it looked back, clutching, scarring,
Touching, wrinkling my youth, mad and furious,
Into dimensions and horizons I can see.
I saw the weakness of my likeness and inhabited it,Â
Leaving remnants, of disguise, guilt and pain:
Feelings print cannot expose, but time, numbers,
And truth only, can reveal and set free!
