Behind the Mirror

short poem- you may not always like what you find when you look at who you are

I met my reflection
with a blank stare of hate,

And for a brief moment
my eyes took pity
on the puffy tear soak face,

But then my memory came flooding back
in strands of truth egraved with fiction,

And I wanted to scream;
to punch "IT" in the face
to rid my-self of that image of sadness,

But my fists met glass
and that hopless stranger
      SMILED back,
behind that cold hard barrier
above my bathroom sink.