repetition

this morning

i came to be again

much like the last

i stared through the mirror

it hurt my soul to acknowledge

those eyes staring back at me

they seem the author of my demise

i come to remember something

again, everyday, over again 

i reflect with disbelief

into the night

i consider revolt

but always, i carry on in denial

avoiding other mirrors

i escape into the flesh

until morning

and the mirror again

where i come to be 

again

painful to acknowledge 

Author's Note