Image for the poem Mirror Me

Mirror Me

 Mirror Mirror
on my wall…
Am I soon
to tragedy fall?

For that is what
I hear you know?
From whispering winds,
high and low.

They say the potions
that I oft do make,
shall bring forth death
for evil’s sake!

But “how”, I ask thee,
can such be true?
For pleasured journeys
it takes me too.

Quickly removing
smothering weeds,
and society’s poison
planted in me.

My baggage light.
Inhibitions are few,
as my eyes are blurred
from a cold sharp view.

And when nigh is the time
for a cool wind of change,
I welcome the warmth,
through my cold and numb veins.

For This dungeon I live in,
is filled with cold hate.
And a bed full of thorns,
is where I must lay.

Father can’t protect me.
Mother’s fever is worse.
The wolf with white wool,
warns my potions are cursed.

So Magic Mirror,
upon my wall…
What saith thee,
of my rumored fall?

(the mirror speaks)

Silly girl
upon your chair,
look deep inside
my mirrored stare.

Truth lives inside,
but be thou warned,
with its reflection
fear is born.

Do you see the rose,
in my eyes of red?
Or do you see the tears
from its thorn that I bled?

Potions you own
are feared by those,
who see beauty only
in the sight of the rose.

For even the rose,
lovely as it seems,
has thorns of consequence,
clothed under velvet sheen.

What goes up,
will surely come down.
And you must lose yourself,
if your ever to be found.

The dark lonely night,
needs hope of a new day…
Just as the warm sun
would scald you if it stayed.

For every heart beat,
that shall tearfully end,
a babe cries out in fear,
as precious life begins.

So, yes my dear,
winds whisper truth today.
By the works of your potions,
your life will fade away.

You see, all things good
would not be good without
an equal host of evil
to define its well built house.

You must find in yourself
the peace that you need,
to have no regrets
and live with your deeds.

Never cast your cares
on a mirrored reflection.
And fear not the changes
the winds have detected.

Mother and father
should not be to blame.
The wolf in sheep’s clothing
is not yours to tame.

Potions and spells,
alone are just things.
You dear, are the goodness…
or the evil it brings.

As all things in life
Good or bad shall soon cease.
May the life you have left
Be a beautiful beast.

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