Of the Self

Of the Self

A Poem by Mac

Human Frailty:
found perfectly in the confines of a mirror.

The deep, solemn eyes of a Grandmother,
her aging lines spread out like butterfly wings. . .
The sunken sockets of a teenage boy,
bloodshot veins carrying drunken thoughts to a headache. . .
The hollowed impressions of a curious child,
wild in their maturing endeavor to understand. . .

The face of a man who hates,
the face of a man who has poured, to the last drop,
every ounce
of his being,
   to love too much;
The face of a man found
The face of a man lost,
wanting to be found,
unaware of his own thoughts;
The face of a woman scarred, smiling
The face of a woman soon to be, melancholy. . .
it withers like the drying spring in fall,
  is reborn again like the fallen spring sun,
 it lies back like summer swing-sets
     and shivers in the frigid snow banks of winter. . .

the skin, a sudden jolt of reality,
much rougher than its glassy counterpart;
   the throat holds a throbbing heart
and a petrified torso stands more captivating
    than the last pages of "The History of the World"

it is the inconsistencies of a would-be perfect world,
an ellipsis to something

© 2015 Mac

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Added on February 6, 2015
Last Updated on February 6, 2015



Conway, AR

I went to college for Creative Writing, of which I did not finish. I now write in my free time in hopes of one day publishing my work. One of the fears I have to face is making an online presence - .. more..

"Grand Pause" "Grand Pause"

A Poem by Mac