Screen
I am facing
the silver screen,
my virtual
reflection
refusing to
look at me.
The screen turns black
and all I see
are my blank eyes
as they wait
wait to watch
filtered scenes.
When my eyes close
I can look in
side of myself.
For a blink
I can see
who I am.
Reality
is here; I am
the unsorted truth.
Colors re
turned to how
they began.
My words don’t re
sound with what sounds
I would master,
control with
the ease of
enactment.
My face and my
eyes, I lament
how they cry to
realize
the joy of
who I am.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: