The Mirror

I see her.

Her eyes show
What once must have been
A wild and free spirit;
Now a captive of fear.

Her face charged
With an ambiance
Of furious helplessness.

Confusion clouding
Every corner of her mind.
Her vision fading into
A blur of familiar surroundings.

Memories grip her throat
In a merciless fist,
Bringing her to the edge of destruction.

Her soul torn.
Trying to escape.
Her mind a mosh pit of turmoil.
Emptiness and longing consume her being.

And yet to the naked eye,
Only masked expressions and
Fraudulent eyes are evident
In the visage of her face.

Images portrayed through
The echoes of solitude
And the security of numbness.

Copyright © 2004, Jennifer Thompson