Gaze at the mirror, angry at the man I try to be.
His image now distorted,
The harder I look the less is clear to me
Is this life?
Should it be aborted.
Contemplation of the worst kind
Not to end a life,
But leave loved ones behind
No answer to why,
No light to shine.
Alarm goes off to begin the daily grind
As the day goes on a storm brews inside,
And dark thoughts fill the mind.
The salty taste of a tear cried.
Mixtures of emotions misplaced,
No longer parralel to conformity
A once strong mind disgraced,
Hidden in modern society.
This is the aftermath, the leftovers
The ones not thought of when I crossed over
A widow alone without her lover
A mothers only son no longer a brother.