I look into the mirror and don’t recognize myself anymore.
A cliché it may be, but holds more and more truth with each passing day.
My beliefs are in tethers, my body worn, my mind is a mess, my faith shaken.
Reduced to nothing more than the darkened paint, mixed with all the colours.
I am deconstructed, naked, but yet, no closer to discovering my core.
What I once believed, no longer holds true.
I am judged, strung up to be seen.
I am analyzed, pressed between 2 glass plates under a scope.
I am taken a part, piece by piece but unable to be put back together.
I am broken, I break, I am naked
But I am not accepted
And so, the pieces get glued back on, never the same, as the cliché goes.
It’s heavier now, glue does that.
To be safe, let’s add a couple of layers more just to make sure
That they don’t fall off again.
For good measure, thicken it real good.
Because at the end of the day, if judgement be passed,
at least all that is at stake, is the glue you’ve stuck on the outside
It’ll crack a lil and get covered up again.
But at least your core, your vulnerable core that holds on to the childish beliefs,
the dreams you cherish, will remain untouched.
And as it remains so, there might still hope.