20 April, 2018
Almost unfamiliar: my own self.
He stares back at me with a troubled gaze,
Reflects an unreal image of himself.
With each prolonged breath he looks at the haze
and asks, “Why!?” Still looking for answers gone.
He cries - remains haunted by fears - and hopes
to find peace but withheld light of a Dawn,
beyond his own mind’s reach; his stretched hand gropes
at the glass for the one to hold without
Shame. A cracked translucent wall sits between us -
aged, faded, marred over time... - Worth in doubt.
He’s bound within his fragile box... Anxious,
he asks through the pane, “How long will this be?”
And I: “When we are whole or finally free.”
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