February 16, 2016

A poet, too

Hello, it's Evy. I have something heavier to share with you today. It's called:
My poet side. It is kind of deep, kind of creepy, and definitely hard to share. I am putting one of my non-sharing poems below the jump break.
Proceed with caution: the following is very dark.
I do not think like this. It is a poem, not a mind reveal. Just please keep that in mind.

Broken Glass

Grey eyes
Glassy eyes
Staring back at me
Black and white
Front and back
It's everything I see
You can call it my reflection
But be warned-
It isn't me

Bright eyes
Happy eyes
Shining back at me
Red and blue
Left and right
It's everything I see
You can call it my reflection
But beware-
It couldn't be

I reach out to touch it, for a second. The glass feels broken beneath my fingertips. I drop my eyes from the mirror and turn away. I will never see what I have done.

That's what I have to say.

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