mirror mirror on the wall  July 28, 2007 - August 8, 2007

Contest Completed


you take me with you on the journey - Princess NO Name
i feel like a friend going with you - [writing deleted]
i feel as if I watch you, traveling through the mirror land - [writing deleted]


please note: I will NOT accept stories, if what you submit is not a poem, I will delete it without a second look.

okay, this time around, ive picked the topic of what you see when you look into a mirror and the journey of what happens. its not really about the mirror, its about what you see, what your journey is. If you want an example, there are two or three poems of which I have written about this:


A mirror.
She hates mirrors.
When I look,
it's always her.
Take a look.
You'll see.
It's someone
Other than me.
She looks different
Slightly in the face.
Drastically in the eye.
Even the clothes.
They look dark, morbid.
You hate mirrors,
because it shows you.
I know it's you, from pictures.
The ones I remember being taken.
They don't look like you.
You hate mirrors,
Becase it reveals your secrets.
You can't hide in a mirror.
It used to take you
Forever and a day
To come out and play.
Now you're instantly there,
Staring back at me,
Every time I look,
Everytime I see.
And now, because of you,
I hate mirrors too.


my only enemy

What is this thing,
That my hallway holds?
What is this room,
That it shows?
Who is that,
I can see?
Five minutes,
I still don't know.
All I know?
She's damn pretty.
She looks like me.
Is she you?
Deamon inside,
Who holds half my life.
Are these,
Your haunting eyes?
Your strong arms?
Your violent hands?
This room you are in,
What room is this?
You look the same,
But so different.
Even your clothes.
They are still dark,
But they are also morbid.
Deamon of mine,
Is this,
Your curly hair?
Your tanned skin?
Your flat, curved waist?
Deamon inside,
Do you know?
I can see your secrets here.
You turn away from me,
MIrrors are your only fear.
You cannot face,
The secrets yours.
The secrets mine.
You destroyed them,
I saved them.
You nearly killed them,
I restored their health.
This thing, in my hallway.
It's a mirror.
This room,
Just a refection of our hallway.
This person,
Is that deamon,
Who's taking half my life.
This deamon,
My only enemy.
This deamon,
Is me.


the little awards that show on your profile, and my congratulations


Gypsy-Belle Baker
Gypsy-Belle Baker
menlo park, CA


Created Jul 28, 2007