Treasure Island

Eric Andrew James


A reflection better in glass II


Hand me a mirror
I have to see it clearer
What have I become
A beast on the outside
A beast within
What crime have I committed?
What horrid sin of skin

My hands are growing claws
For what, I beg, twas cause?
A wilted rose
Within a glass
Has shown me for what I am
Lost within the tides of loathsome
This hell I’m sent to be damned

Hand me something broken
Something false, unspoken
A glass, a glass
Alas
My poor pawn of words
As I look upon your translucent surface
My beauty now returns

Submitted: Saturday, November 25, 2006
Edited: Saturday, November 27, 2010
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