I wrote this poem after I looked in the window... and saw my reflection. Haha. Deep, huh?
Looking through a window,
And all I see is a reflection.
Difficult to truly look past myself, and in to the world just beyond the glass.
THE WORLD they say, is made of dreams, of freedom.
Maybe it's said because we can't look past this mirror,
all we can see are the nightmares in the dark circles under our exhausted eyes,
or because we can't escape from those long lines across our worried foreheads.
Perhaps our windows are fogged with hot and cruel words on a cool and chilled sheet that we so longingly wish to step through.
If I could only place my toes atop the grass on the other side....
The dew would renew me.
The sun could refresh me.
The air could release me.
The world could REWRITE me.
If i could only look THROUGH this window.