The person I am supposed to be
is crushed in the mirror of me.
I see you and you dwell in my amorphous mind,
No! but I should not think of you or I'll be declined
To have you today, tomorrow or in future times.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder-is what they say,
And mine is laid out in fine sheets appearing only once a day.
However peer into my soul through that glass of water
View that which never ceases in kindness nor halters
To be your everything.
