Within the ghostly mirror,
there lives a face that makes me shiver.
It visits me when I stare
or walk by with little compassion or sense of care.
I do not look at it often
for I know the truth that lies at its bottom,
A truth I dare not speak
because of honesty, my skin would reek.
When I need to look, I do it fast
quick and careful, away from the lurking truth at heart.
Within this ghostly mirror of mine
I dare not stare too long
because the face that greets me back
is not one I know
but the result of the seeds that I have sown.
It is mine in form, that much is true
but where there were once eyes
darkness now spreads through
and from the icy lips so blue
darts poison which, ever misses few.
To this day I dare not say
who it is that made my face that way.
It can’t be me for I am good
the best, the kindest in the hood.
© JR Robberts 2017