Why I Write


As a look in the mirror, I stare back at my reflection

I see the picture of a troubled man;

Searching to find and gaze at a portrait of redemption.

His vision is fogged; amid dim depression and loss of understand.

As I look through his eyes, I see the world from reality’s perception:

Sex… Money… Spite… Ego… Chameleon-ism…

An entrapped mindset where hindsight is an vile prism prison

Fear of failure, Ignorant Bliss, and Covetous Lust; a fool’s coping mechanism

Portraying pitiful self-worthlessness as a sign of wisdom.

I blink for a split second then I find myself, Starring at the world through a rare point of view:

Irises, Lilies, and Lotus Flowers growing from the ruins of Sodom and Gomorrah;

As the rose that grew from the concrete because of the firewater.

I gasp for breath, retreating back 2 steps for I’ve witness and seen the concept of miracles; Life after Death…

I’ve never been a holy man, but from his perspective I’m holding onto glory’s hand.

I can’t believe what my frail brown eyes have seen:

I thought I saw a image of myself but in reality it was life’s askew view of existence's nightmarish-realistic-dream:

Hold up, I said “In reality it was life’s askew view of existence’s nightmarish-realistic-dream” if you think about it, even I don’t know what that means

But I can notion and father the thought of why:

The pain, the struggle, the rain, the beauty, the dark, the mystery, the light

The hustle, the ambition, the meaning, and definition of life; tis why I write...

So much I’ve seen yet have seen none; Experience

So much I’ve accomplished yet haven’t done; Esperance

Temperance, emotions, patience, virtues, acceptance and even ignorance are all part of the reason why

Life in general; the ups and downs, the smiles and frowns, the good and evil

The hopeless hope of faith that derives people; that is why I write…


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