I look into the mirror

I see myself.

I don’t see myself.

The irony of it consumes me

It tears me apart.

And yet, all I see is me

but not myself.

I ruffle my hair to see a change

Finally a reflection of my emotion

and yet the wounds don’t show.

My eyebrow quivers, my eyes a silver molten.

I’m beginning to see, the real me.

The more the teardrops succumb to gravity,

The more hazy my vision becomes.

And yet, things look clearer now.

Pristine and crystal in blurred motions.

The less I see into the mirror,

the more I see myself.

And this irony too, consumes me.