my own eyes - by lucy mapstone
In a darkened room
full of only trivial light
I peer into the looking glass
simply frightened by the sight.
It is not my face that matters;
not my lips that curve right down,
nor my dented sides of face -
just the eyes beneath the frown.
Suddenly I finally see
the horror that within
lies inside my heart;
my body, my mind, my skin.
Eerily dark be those
that are the windows to my being,
I look away so sharply
at the realisation of my seeing.
Arrogance, a bitter heart
traits of mine so rigid -
it seems like I'm never rid of them
my heart that lies so frigid.
Seeing my past mirrored in my gaze,
I feel it wise to be alone
so I can not hurt people for days...
...my scarred and rusty disposition
under scrutiny all the time;
under fusillade from myself
I decide I must stop the crime.
So, now, after my time to dwell
this may come as a surprise
I've learned that I must better my ways;
I learned it from my own eyes.
In a darkened room
full of only trivial light
I peer into the looking glass
simply frightened by the sight.
It is not my face that matters;
not my lips that curve right down,
nor my dented sides of face -
just the eyes beneath the frown.
Suddenly I finally see
the horror that within
lies inside my heart;
my body, my mind, my skin.
Eerily dark be those
that are the windows to my being,
I look away so sharply
at the realisation of my seeing.
Arrogance, a bitter heart
traits of mine so rigid -
it seems like I'm never rid of them
my heart that lies so frigid.
Seeing my past mirrored in my gaze,
I feel it wise to be alone
so I can not hurt people for days...
...my scarred and rusty disposition
under scrutiny all the time;
under fusillade from myself
I decide I must stop the crime.
So, now, after my time to dwell
this may come as a surprise
I've learned that I must better my ways;
I learned it from my own eyes.
