The mirror

Through the glass I look

Searching for some answer

Faces slanted into an opaque distortion

Everywhere I gaze

There’s a contrived image of me

Vague, sordid visions

Has spited their view on life

Piles of faulty illusions has gathered around

To distinguish the presumed reality from truth

The looking glass is see-through

Yet cloudy representations are abound

From here to there

My face has grown to wear

A thing forming a different mask

Dual wielding commonalities

Grown from my own temple of the scalp

My expression lay altered

There is no fixed meaning to discern

I question the truths they say to me

Of which my heart and soul crushes

Beneath its weight

I search elsewhere

Combing through baseless realities

With a fine tooth handheld device

To regain my dignity

But, alas, today

I am clean and pretty, mighty and raw

I stand untethered.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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