The Inside Form
A mirror not made of glass
instead all bumps and curvy lines
reflects the person I know inside
silhouettes I wish to wear
clothes to drape on my frame
presented by another soul.
This truth that none can see
seeks relevance in other forms
some measure to group the dream
revelation borne from peculiar thoughts
yet I find I'm not alone
travelers calling across the fog.
I'll ignore the taunt on the wall
gargoyle of my outer shell
turn instead to what I adore
others display what I should have
suggestions made with no recourse
echoes feeding my jealousy.
By circumstance or twist of fate
desires spring forth to flood my mind
when reflecting on the perfect form
instead my outer remains the same
a truth most cannot accept
while live mirrors state the inside form.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180822.