Mirrors
as they cut you
as they hurt you
as they take you
without even trying to reach you
without touching you
Mirrors
as they are the cause of your bleed
as the blood covering their surface
is too deep so that you can breathe
too much for you to see
too much for you
to convince the world
So lie like an actor of the fall
to the world
to the clever and idiot world
lie like you split out the last dropp of your soul
to the world
idiot world
that with a single glance in the mirror
can catch
see
your soul
Mirrors
as they reflect the perfect me
mirrors all around me
surrounding
me
and my soul
It is not you what you are looking in the mirror
How extraordinary me
How exotically beautiful
and vacant
and alone
and not me
How not me
am I
as I breathe
Mirrors
that reflect perfection
and loneliness
Mirrors
where you see me
but not me
Mirrors
depicting aliens
strangers
freaks, priests, politicians
chefs, pianists, painters, fainters
haters
“fatersâ€
They depict me
but not me
I am impeccable
Gorgeous me
breathing not through my lungs
but through the glass
of the mirror
And when it breaks
when it tears up
it is not the seven years of bad luck
that I am scared of
that freaks my heart out
it is the miniscule parts of the glass
the
traversing all the way through my body
towards my heart
reaching me
reaching what I am not
what I am
in the mirror
miniscule molecules of truth
and blood
truer blood than what is mine spilling from the cut
The blood that flows behind the glass
is more alive than me
revealing the cut
disassembling the dream
dissenting me
through the truth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem