Posted: October 22, 2013 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

In the morning

I wake,

and tell myself that things will be different.

I move about,

eating, speaking, blinking sleep from my eyes.

Then I move into noise

and light–

bright, blinding light, and loud, cacophonous noises.

Through it all I am unheard.

Not heard when screaming, not seen when in the open.

In solidarity I find

myself staring into the mirror

and seeing the face that others ignore.

I don’t speak;

I don’t think;

I simply stare.

And in the pale mirror I find

the merest trace of hope–

some recognition from warm, golden sunlight

in a simple reflection.

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