Saturday, January 16, 2010

Walking in a garden on a Sunday
I am ambushed.
A mirror stands in front of me
Unable to move, I stare at myself
The person in the mirror
Stares back; he sickens me
Hot tears fall quickly down my cheeks
Burning me,
I scream in anguish
The truth is too much to bear
And yet I gaze on
My eyes affixed to the man in the mirror.

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