When I first met denial,
It was masked as if casted from my face.
I looked into the mirror to evaluate its presence.
And on that particular day...
I stayed until denial from my face went away.
Self examination is at first excruciating.
Truth on display,
Doesn't fake to a fade or play charade.
Or masquerade its significance.
It comes too real to be felt and adorned.
When I first met denial,
It was masked as if casted from my face.
I looked into the mirror to evaluate its presence.
And on that particular day...
I stayed until denial from my face went away.
Self examination is at first excruciating.
Truth on display,
Doesn't fake to a fade or play charade.
Or masquerade its significance.
It comes too real with a feeling that's adorned!
And as often as I repeat this...
Truth as it was introduced to me,
Has not changed since its delivery.
In fact within me it remains on!
And the more I demand it around me,
The clearer I see the stronger its appearance gets.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem