Sunday, August 29, 2010


Mirror reflects distant strangers
I expect the latter would be used to anger
But the other perceives it as useless anger   
I use this anger and hold it, mold it
Into something beautiful
The wrath simmers like bacon on a stove top
Until the grease off the stove, pop! 

I'm told my soul ought to behave 
My shadow is off on it's own, a young rebel 
So when I go for a run it's ahead of me
He is imitating my persona
Together as one, but now he is there instead of me
The hijacking of identity, vehemently 
My featureless reflection guiding me into new directions 
So when he speaks there is no consequence
And when I speak there is no common sense
Shadows don't feel, they don't revel
Shadows merely act upon one's will
I've become a shadow, so I'm most real 
When my eyes hear R.E.M.
When I awake here we go again...

No comments:

Post a Comment