Unheard Reflection

    
                    
                    Don’t stand me up to my mirror. My mirror lies.
                    Damn it, for once see me the way my own eyes
                    see what I make myself believe’s what I truly am.
                    You keep trying to get me to see what you want
                    to see, like that’s what I should try to recognize
                    as the real me. And I nod as if I see it, but I don’t,
                    not without seeing what’s beneath that thin cover
                    over what’s still there, what’s not all that well hid
                    to me, what’s too hard to deceive myself you won’t
                    eventually catch on to, probably you already know
                    but hope your compliments will prove me the lover
                    you want me to be for you. Let’s not give a damn
                    about my faults, right? Let’s pretend it as though
                    the one before you didn’t see what you say you see
                    and the one before her didn’t know what she said
                    she knew and the one before that couldn’t touch
                    what he said he had touched and the one before
                    the one before the one before the one before them.
                    If you knew me like you say, you’d not condemn
                    them so easily on my word. They knew up front
                    who I was through and through at my very worst
                    and still loved, still accepted, still named their own
                    best after me. It was more than I knew I deserve.
                    It was too good for me to ever be true. It was more
                    than I could accept from anyone. It was too much
                    to believe in. Better it be I the one who can’t accept
                    anyone who can give the real me sincere respect.
                    You think you see me? How is it you’ve not known
                    me enough to know it’s only I can hear my scream?
                    Me, not any of those whom I have tried to blame
                    so as to throw you off the trail. It’s me, me instead
                    of them. I don’t accept my own self, my own name,
                    my word, my love, my light, my reality, my dream.
        

        


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