Is it just merely a light that once dazzled now that fades

Or is the beauty that once was depicted in original portraits

That resides in your house of empty rooms, now vacant of ever feeling

The subtle despair of a memory that parades

Throughout your unblemished and unfulfilled and uptight straight

Mind. No I don’t mind! You carry on stealing

And hammering in those nails of self-doubt and interest bearing,

Ever increasing moments of self-loathing.

You can’t hate me anymore than I do

And yet even in the darkness I know it’s true and I find myself caring

Even less about what you see in this ramshackle man or thing

Who you see as a toy or a plaything to hurt, tear at and screw.

Through the darkness I watch you watching me

Is it pretty the image you see?

The light shines from your eyes but they seem dead inside

Lots of hurt, tears, joy even but certainly no pride

Why the look of disdain?

I see you in the mirror my friend and I smile and smile at my own pain.

Ian D. Hall. 2013.