The Mirror
Feb. 27th, 2003 08:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The naked light bulb swung lazily back and forth on it's wire, throwing awkward shadows around the room. I sat on the stained mattress in the corner of the room, running my palm over my scraggly jowls. My feet, sitting bare against the floor, were so calloused that they could hardly feel the rough grain beneath them. There were no windows in this room, only a worn and pitted door. For that I was thankful. There is a man who I once knew. Sometimes, he would still come and visit me, late in the night when the alcohol's glow was fading. When it should have been time to awaken, had I anything worth waking for. I stood shakily and gazed blearily across the room at him. He gazed back, shook his head, and laughed at me. "What has become of you," he asked, his voice ringing in my head. I shuffled my feet, avoided his eyes. "It's the light," I answered. "It's this poor lighting that makes me look so." I looked up, and he smiled at me, in not a friendly way. "No," his voice rang again, "I'm afraid you're mistaken." I sighed resignedly, without hope. I staggered forward and lightly touched the pane of glass between us. There was no use in disguising what was so plain. You see, I'd spent my whole life denying that the man in the mirror was me. Like a child lost in an illusion, he yet imagined the things that could be. But I watched them all disappear on this night; I carry on, among the forsaken. For there is no point in denying what is so easy to see: I too will die one day. The man in the mirror agreed. |
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Date: 2003-02-27 05:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2003-02-27 06:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2003-02-27 06:13 pm (UTC)These are all just nit-picking details, I know, and in all honesty, I really like it. I can only wish that I could write prose as well. (I think that my poetry has been getting better though. If you'd like for me to post some of it, just say so.)
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Date: 2003-02-28 05:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
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