Of late, I have started using
My small mirror again and again
As they say, the reflection is real
Is that real me?
Is that why I see myself so often?
Is that because I want to confirm
Its me, its me and its me.
Reconfirmation again, is it me?
But sad, I can see something
Not really mine, not really carried
By me, emerging…..
The shoots covering my face
The aberrations; evolving with time
Growing, expanding, inflating and
Sinking deeper into the skin
Writing stories of inflictions
Etching the deeper scars
Oh! No more I want to see
The distortions, the blemishes
They must be hypothetical
Or am I hallucinating
Reality is better as a mirage
How can I forget, the first aberration
When I killed, the innocent me
When I stabbed, the beautiful me
When I wept to fake
When I slept to wake
And this is entropy,
It doesn’t take me back
Time, has only given me a mirror
When it is happy it reflects me
And when it is sorry
It still shows the real me
However, this one is ugly