Beholding the mirror at the entrance of my house, but I can’t see a face;
It is so strange, probably the mirror isn’t working; perhaps my face fades;
There’s a portrait hanging in the living room; in it watches a shape of a face;
A young guy, brown skin and nice short hair dwells within, he smile in phases.
He just won’t tell me what he was happy about; so sad he knows no race;
How I wish I was that guy on the wall portrait with no race, but a smiling face;
Such smile, joy and wild attitude like that guy’s makes any man look so ace.
Looking at the mirror for the second time and still found no appearance;
So I sat down trying to work on the mirror; hoping this is not a trance;
The price of this mirror dries a river, so it should not test my endurance!
This is how they sell fake things around – even a mirror can need deliverance;
Behold, the mirror at the entrance of my house leads to my disappearance.
Now looking at the mirror the third time with the hope to see a face,
I need legal tender back; so I proceeded to the mirror seller’s base;
Unexpectedly, she awaits my arrival in sour pleasure for days;
Everyone wants the mirror that can hide their feelings. Oh what grace!
They promise to pay twice of my initial price if only the mirror could daze.
I felt the same way too, the same day, my first time, only in phrase.
I went to other mirror stores, though not to buy but cuddle;
I needed to remember what it felt like to be me and not idle.
I returned home disappointed; no mirror was ready to kindle,
Have I lost it; my face – have I lost myself? In world’s muddle;
This is not a story; it is not a poem and definitely not a fuddle.
It is a true life story, not a tale or skit; definitely not a waddle.
It is so unfortunate what pressing times have made of many. Many cannot remember what their plans for the year were. Some have lost the ability to think straight, to concentrate and to remain committed.
We now seek approval and validation from people who we think are perfect example of a mirror. And when they tell us the things we don’t want to hear; be it the truth or unfair criticism; we go self-destruct.
If there was a time in your life that you were ever happy, that should be prove that there is coming a time when you’ll be happy again. Nothing has changed; you are who you were and who you have always being. A day will come when you will look into that mirror again and recognize the face you see in it. That day will come.
However, I suggest you take a lot of pictures; they help keep memories alive. Memories are history, they help to sharpen our present and guide our future. Remember the portrait on the wall in this poem, gave hope of a once good time when the mirror was only concerned about the present state.