Broken Mirror Broken Man 

I stare into the face of one I do not know,

There are lines on his face and he’s tired and pained,

He has blood on his hands and bags on his eyes, 

There’s an emptiness in his deep green eyes,

A tear runs down his pastel cheek and his tears drop on the floor,

A shard of mirror falls to his feet, 

Another part of him as dead as the rest,

That man is me and I see him everyday, 

That man is me and his face won’t change, 

That man is me and he is now dead,

That mirrors still broken, how can I change.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s