The Mirror


My room
United States

A shattered mirror

A million pieces

All me

Different aspects

Different stories to tell

Broken. Beyond repair.

Try to sweep them up,

Try to arrange them, the pieces do not fit

A kaleidoscope of a human, an array of shades and colors cumulating to create a unique being

Each piece, a vocalist, an artist at his best, creating and shaping something regarded as beautiful by some, ridiculed and mocked by others.

The question remains…

Which am i?

The angel or the demon?

Perhaps bot are parts of the unique being that i am

Out of place yes . A loner? Maybe. An outcast? A definite.

My shadow, dark, looming but part of my soul none the less

Possibly the greater side, the side wanting to be freed and shown to the world

The pieces have been swept up.

But still they are not in perfect arrangement nor symbiotic relation.


I cannot fit anyone else’s mold.

Do not try to change or ridicule me.

The shattered pieces of my soul are for me and only me to shape

Sitting on this bed i wonder what my purpose is, why I’m here, why i continue pushing on only to hit walls and have them crush around me every time


Because each story and failed conquest is a piece of me.

The pieces will remain shattered on the floor.

Cutting those yearning to make me what i am not

As i grow these pieces will come together, assimilating in harmony

They recreate the mirror.

In this mirror, i will finally see the person i am placed on this earth to be.




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