The storms killed my ancestors.
They thrived under dark clouds,
Sought help in the crashing rain,
Struggled to survive and
Learnt to see themselves as the enemy.
In the light we seem not bloodthirsty, but then
The clouds cover and darkness comes
And we thrive,
Seeing colour for the first time
Since the last time, and
Learning again how to take our Spears and kill the first creature we see.
Look at it- it has no soul.
No hope.
Put it out of its misery.
Look at us, in our misery,
Struggling to survive through
Learning to see our reflections as the enemy
YOU ARE READING
Shattered Reflections
Poetry"There was a moment in my life when I could not tell the difference between a window and a mirror. I could look into both and see everything but myself." Rudy Francisco, Helium - Windows and Mirrors A diary of sorts, to help me to remember.
