The day I met myself...

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  • Confusion

    The day I met myself...

    In the mirror i stood, staring at this face that was so familiar,
    The smile was so sincere but the eyes were filled with fear,
    I would walk staring at the shadow that was constantly beside me,
    who was this person that never left my side?
    At night i would toss and turn
    like a rollercoaster ride.
    Again in the mirror i would stand.
    The face looked so familiar and the eyes were so sad,
    I have memories of this face that stares back at me
    but deep inside i am truly in doubt.
    A voice inside cries to be heard
    I strain my ears to hear every word.
    Little by little it starts to make sense
    and as i stare in the mirror longer,
    my muscles start to tense...
    Could this really be it?
    Is this me staring back at me?
    Now my eyes start to tear as i follow the drops down to my cheeks.
    The emotion intensifies as i am about to be set free
    and i'm happy to meet me,
    After so many years, i have finally met myself.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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