I look in the mirror searching.
Searching for the confidence
that has always absconded
when I make eye contact,
and before thinking, denounce myself.
There is no security. Security is lost.
I am an opened wound
who wishes to be unborn.
Yet guilt covers the olive skin;
all I see is darkness, others see light?
A light I put on,I live and act and even I
can convince myself, my smile is real.
For I am blessed overwhelmingly,
I have no reason to be upset
for myself, my life. Yet here I stand demanding
answers, though in my reflection
I'm crying. Crying sorrow, guilt, lust, confusion,
but I continue to judge and question.
I demand responses,
and as I look into my own eyes and see the fear of a young,
naive child it tears my ears, it tightens my chest,
"but I can't help it." Is the excuse I use to continue
to only see the dark
I hold in my heart.

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