This illusion as its called,
Sometimes holds more truth in life,
Than the object it reflects.
It shows us whats in front of it,
Not what WE want to see,
Of wishful thinking and of will,
Snuffed out in its presence shall those candles be.
How depressing or how dark things look,
Will only worsen if we continue to believe,
In lies, illusions and lovely visions,
Those cracks in the mirror, only too damaged to see.
Even if there was a mirror,
If theres no light, we still can't see,
Thats where diamond dust comes in,
Sparkling oh so brilliantly,
Some too bright to bear,
Some too dim to notice,
But when lit altogether,
Tells of wonder, hope and a wish.
A wish for a private world,
Of what you make of it,
A place to truly call your own,
Create it yourself, bit by bit.
Surrounded by falling stars,
Whose light glows brighter in the glass,
Transforming black into white,
Warping you into another world, so beautiful and vast.
And on the walls, when bathed in light,
Could one see his inner thoughts,
Scrawled and written with such emotion,
That such thing could never be copied from or bought.
Regardless if its only for me or the world,
My mirror is a place of peace,
To express and be inspired by,
A place to breathe at ease.
The mirror is as you make it,
Whether smooth, cracked or destroyed,
Mine's just embedded with individuality and sad emotions,
What exists in my mirror, i accept and merely enhance.
No comments:
Post a Comment