*lower case intended
reflection
when I look into my mirror,
u g l i n e s s.
a new red spot, yellow teeth or the piece of hair that bends at a strange angle.
was that I all along?
i thought i was perfect in the eyes of others,
seeing myself as one of them in those blue orbs.
every piece is carved with their acceptance,
believing the state of art i am in is beautiful.
and now i realize I'm just a blank canvas
thrown with messy, random colors from other painters.
what am i anymore?
i have lost the true meaning of creativity and uniqueness-
but as my fingers trace the lines of freckles running down my cheek,
the word s p e c i a l
appeared on the glass.
YOU ARE READING
EXTRACTION ✓
PoetryPOETRY 'such sadness; a creative mind that cannot be expressed only through those crooked smiles that left me confessed' A poetry book that speaks wonders of love, life and tragedies. All Rights Reserved by Rachel W.
