The Picture on the Wall

It's as if I'm somebody else, Somebody I never knew. I look in the mirror and there is nothing but opaque eyes and a plastic smile, Forgiving, yet fearful. Everyday brings something new, Usually nothing good, Only the same old people and faces only rearranged to confuse me, So they can laugh at me all over again. I still have not found what's so funny, And though I try everyday, The picture on the hallway wall will never look the same. Now my face is scared, My back is weak, My legs won't walk, My eye's have forgotten how to cry, And I am no longer something. The picture on the wall never changes, Those deep hazel-blue eyes stare into me like I am invisible, The dark brown wavy hair misplaced, But it didn't matter. My smile back then was real, My face was bright when I looked in the mirror, There was no fear, No pain, No sorrow. Now every time I walk down the hall and the pervading wind surpasses my being, The mirror at the end no longer lies, The memories; they no longer lie. The truth; it no longer lies, And that single picture that hangs on the walls, With a beautiful youth and a smile to go along, Which has never lied, Never scorned, Never even spoken, Tells the truth as plain as it is... And now I am nothing. Written December 3rd, 2001 © on Dec 03 2001 10:43 AM PST   18 • 0 • 1