The mediocrity that is me
2002-06-25 08:59:13 (UTC)

Thinking about absolutely nothing.


Hiding from the blazing sun,
Her lavender face drifts towards the shadows.
In a singular soft sacrifice,
She awakens and runs to the mirror
To apply lipstick, avoiding her reflection,
Whose ruby-red lips smile, and hint of dreams shattered.

Trivial, she thinks, for in time, all will end up shattered
Or turned to dust under the burning sun.
Accidentally, the girl catches the eye of her reflection.
Her eyes, drowning in the shadows,
Cry tears that will only be known to the glass mirror.
With a thin layer of mascara, she makes her sacrifice:

Emotion for the pure empty joy of conformity. A sacrifice
To begin each morning, but the glass shattered,
And life crashed down with the shards of mirror.
Each piece dancing in the light of the sun
Like so many memories, only to reach their nadir in the
And offer an obscured view of her reflection.

Her essence was intertwined with that one reflection,
And she, herself, a virgin sacrifice
To the deity that lurked in the shadows.
A living pseudonym to the world, but shattered
Within. Hidden from the pain of the sun,
She avoided the gaze of the mirror.

Unbroken, and unchanged as the continuance of time, the
Stared knowingly out at the girl whose reflection
Would never compare to the light of the sun.
She had threatened to sacrifice
Herself for the good of humanity, but the words shattered
The silence, frightening her, and forcing retreat to the
welcoming shadows.

To a world unknowing, the girl lived in the shadows,
Unable to avoid all that belonged to the mirror.
Amongst the conformity, she found herself shattered
and never possessed her own reflection.
Each morning, a fleeting tear would sacrifice
itself for her, only to be stolen by the scorching sun.

Calling secretly from the shadows, her reflection
In the mirror remained hidden, avoiding any sacrifice
That would render it shattered and twinkling in the
unforgiving sun.