The Looking Glass

Looking inwards I see a bulb of liquid,

it moves and jiggles yet stands still.

It isn’t like a movie in how it plays, download

but it is a story nevertheless, a twisted one.

It is the perspective of my abusers,

those who took my canvas and painted it in a slant.

Everything in this glassy haze is twisted and deformed,

barely completing one another in form.

It is quite unusual to be on this side,

the outside.

It has been a journey,

one of conditioning and one of glory.

However,

the slanted glass is not my mirror,

I am my own soul reflection,

projecting pent up redemption.

I am my own soul redemption,

projecting pent up reflection.

 

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