Twisted Mirror

[butterflydreaming]

This is a long poem, cut for length and because it's still... not exactly right. And this is a slightly altered version from what's in my notebook -- a single phrase can say too much in the wrong venue.




I stood where reflection looked back
The one that knows me so well
Who is, and is not, me
The only one I can tell
The fullest truth of my soul
And show the depths of my hell

She surveyed my face in a glance
Noted the pallor of my skin
Took in my eyes, dry of tears
Before -- with sharp words -- started in

The things that you say, she said,
You'd have to be crazy, to think
You'd have to be stupid, to write
In places that don't use ink

The things that you show, she said,
Should not be paraded around
Such thoughts should be hidden from sight
They should be trampled, or drowned

And you should listen to me
I hate to say how I told you so
You should listen to yourself
For the things that you already know

You're mantled in shame, she said,
So why do you smile at me now?
Are you so stubborn, still?
Chin out and head unbowed
You're biting your lip til it bleeds
Why do your eyes look so proud?

Because that is what I am
That twisted mirror is me
I'm crazy and stupid and wrong
For what I want others to see

That isn't pride, it's despair
that shines in my eyes and my smile
I've shown the worst of myself
I've made myself one to revile

I have to tear myself down
I have to hurt worse than this
Though this is penance beyond
One minor moment of bliss

I can't be as sweet as I seem
I can't let pretty jewels shine
I played the good girl too well;
but that role cannot be mine

And you, you are my own voice
That tries to say that's not true
I find I look in the mirror
And yet I cannot face you

Because there is no cure for love
But there is poison enough
I'll choke on the sweetest of words
but swallow the bitterest stuff.

- . -