Is it bad that I just want to be realized and to be seen?
That I'm tired of waving my hand in your face,
but you're all to dazed to see me,
but like the mirror you think you do,
when really you are just seeing a reflection,
an outer image not the flame within burning where my world begins and ends.
You don't try to pull the cover away,
nor do I try to remove it,
because I'm afraid you'll run,
run so far that not only will my reflection be gone,
but my existence,
that you'll take everything.
But you can never mean you love me,
until you love me past my physical and mental difficulties.
Until you've seen my panic attacks, and how I lock myself within my room,
to escape a doom that calls my name, stealing my positively.
That I need time alone to wash the negative thoughts away,
to become clean alone,
that I can't share this air or burden really,
because it's mine something so deep inside God only knows of it, and he can only see it like me.
So is it bad that I ask you to forget vanity, and anything that stops you from knowing me,
my true inter self that sometimes escapes me?
That I ask you to truly know me,
so that your love is true not set on human things,
but something so much more than that.
That you can see my flaws, and mistakes,
and even the things I was born with and stay,
still letting those precious words last on your tongue,
or will they fade when you see this monster, this beast that sometimes comes before me,
or will you hold me in your arms and whisper it away?
Will you break the mirror, and take the shards from your hands to see our blood is intertwined,
that after all this time,
after all those mistakes you'll never leave,
because I wasn't always in control of the situation, or maybe I was maybe it was my choice,
but I chose wrong,
but now I see another way a place to not escape,
but to change and release my own demons .
I don't ask you to be my knight,
but to stay by my side and love me for me not what the mirror's reflecting,
but what my soul is yearning for.
The true inner self that speaks all truths,
the only real me that you can love,
because the other is an illusion,
a mirror bond to shatter upon another time.