I have 3,463 reasons
to hate me
as seen through the spectacled
looking glass
learning pupils of others eyes
believing in
All truth be told
From inside the fishbowl
a ripple effect goes nowhere
waves of distortion
roll by in wakes
blown out of proportion
To see is to know
What you Do shows
I suppose
better than what you Are...
barely there
thin as a rail
hardly frail
by contrast
and that pale glow
(if you would like to know)
ghostly ashen skin
is not so thin.
Deemed some dame or debutante
with nothing to flaunt
talent, imbalance,
withstanding-
Despite the empathetic understanding
I squeezed into the mold
(as I was told)
now my metallic blood runs steely cold.
I tremble
at your thoughts of me
and the terrible what nots you see
that I cannot spot
any resemblances.
A two-way mirror
absorbs one reflection
shattering a reality
piercing in severe observation
a practice in futility
noticing the nothings
lacking depth perception
merely a dimension of what
you thought you saw
was me
was you too.
Image Guillaume Bodinier [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. (Confession c. 1826).
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