A poem is nothing more than an infant’s painting; for everyone who looks at it sees something different, and it touches each person’s life in a different way.
So much I have to ask you.
So much you show me in just a glimpse.
How can you speak so strongly to me,
That I cannot ignore your voice?
I gaze into you,
To see many, many things.
I see who I was,
Who I am,
Who I’m becoming.
I see all that I’ve overcome,
And my every mistake.
I see all I’ve felt,
And all my memories.
You tell me I’m brave and strong,
Fearful and weak.
You show me who others see me as,
And how I’d like to see myself.
How can you stir up such emotions,
Looking into you can affect me so profoundly,
You can give me hope,
A ray of light,
Or tear me down,
Destroy my will.
Why is it I allow you to influence my thoughts?
Could I block you out if I tried?
If you could speak to me,
What would you say?
Would you speak of my reputation in comparison to who I am,
Or perhaps you’d tell me how I’ve changed with each passing year?
Do you see me as who I am,
Who I pretend to be,
Or who others see me as?
If I could change what I saw in you,
Yet I don’t understand what I see now.
Maybe some people see their image when they look in the mirror,
But not me,
Oh, not me.
I see so much more.