Beauty

I stare into the mirror, crying at what I see

The reflection looks like me but I deny its existence

It is not me I see because I do not like what looks back

 

Images haunt my mind of past persons, past beauties

Where has time taken them, why did they vanish so quickly

If I could only reach back into time and grab the face of the past

Life would be so different.............or would it..........

 

Is it the face that makes a person who they are or is there more

Should I base my being on the face staring back at me

Should I look beyond the face, into the eyes and read the soul

 

Why must I fear the image in the mirror

Why does it paralyze me and pull me into the depths of despair

I believe I am more then that face, but it strangles me and plays with my thoughts

 

No, I must break free from the image looking back

I know it is not what I am or who I am

It is the covering to the real beauty inside of me

 

I must learn to separate thought and reality

Developing a sense of truth for myself will take time

The image fades as I put these thoughts into play

The eyes looking back at me smile as I learn to accept me for who I am

Not the distorted visions I pretend I see

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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