The Man In My Mirror Poem by Sashi Prabhu

Written on 4th and 6th may2012
By: Sashi.Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)
There dwells another man in my mirror and it's not me,
There are obvious differences, between us, the people I want them to see.
The man in my mirror he is bitter and sulks all day and night,
Have tried with him to reason but is inside there by himself and uptight.

With caution he treads the pathways of the mirror frame,
With Stained grief & etched disbelief, happiness he has run down the drain.
Despair dulls the shinning gloss of the mirrored reflect,
Pangs of misery fill up the erupting crevices of the mirror edges and light deflect.

A fearful dismay reflection he has now become,
Leaving behind, a life easy going, joy and fun.
The baggage of the recent and distant past he still holds on and knowingly does carry,
Gets heavier as time passes but he makes no effort to dig and bury.




His love to live and the lust for success is just like a distant dream,
But now there on the inside he rests on sorrow and depression so it seems.
In the back dropp of the dark silent night he looks all decayed by ruthless wear and tear,
Sounds like a howling wounded wolf his ascending scream decibels are terrible to bear.

Cannot see or smell or feel or hear or touch him in there,
But can sense his vibes very clearly emitted of "I don't care".
As they plague the corners of my room,
And they spread through the polished mirror a mist of gloom.

Brown forlorn eyes they erupt with piercing blankness as he stares,
The venom in his heart and the mask of worry on his face to reveal he dares.
The man in my mirror "his fight" he plans to give up,
His life to the sorrow's brink he has pushed abrupt.

False beliefs in his thoughts he has mulled and hosted over and over,
Till they have become mind's parasital truth that linger and he has no cover.
Though I have braved to tell him to stop awhile and think,
He will not consent to himself to find the origin: from inside or insane thought's brink.

Of late he has begun to fettle himself through life's fine line,
So that he can change course and guide his thoughts to be worthy and fine.
So he stares at me through the mirror waiting for my portent sign
Answered by my silence &deafening muteness waiting for his reflection in my mind to align.


As of now

There is an another man in my mirror and it's not me,
The obvious difference, I can make out but all must see.
He is everything I do not wish to be,
And I am going to put an end to me being his envy.

Till a time such as then.

I carry on low, slow, silent but repeated again and again.
Slow, silent ……going ………gone………
To him it's a new beginning, a new dawn……….

Now there is a man in my mirror and it's me,
And I am proud that in the reflection they can perceive a new me