"Broken Reflection: The Other Side of the Mirror"
We have all seen the phrase “Objects in the mirror are much closer than they seem”.
The infamous message on car mirrors.
Reflective materials that are windows into your destination.
The same objects that are meant to be a safety feature.
The same objects that are faulty and cause distance to be distorted.
Yet what is the true meaning? Why closer? Why not further?
I feel further. If I were truly closer, why do I feel so far?
If the objects are closer, then why are they used as a device for distance?
If we are closer, then why do they get to judge me?
Are we not meant to be a family?
In the reflection, I fail to find what society sees.
I am made of a stem and leaf, yet I see my waist and shoulders.
Society sees luscious petals; I see my eyes.
What about my roots? What about them.
I can’t find them.
I see a fractured reflection. A lie.
I see eyes and arms. Hands. Feet.
A white coat. An ID badge that hangs.
The plastic card that gives me power.
The little letters that I worked hard to get but did not improve my life.
Just like the mirror, a false reflection of me.
Even in a room of mirrors, I would never find myself.
Turns out, I don’t exist.
Looking for a person that is only a figment of society.
A creation of what you wish I was.
The infamous message on car mirrors.
Reflective materials that are windows into your destination.
The same objects that are meant to be a safety feature.
The same objects that are faulty and cause distance to be distorted.
Yet what is the true meaning? Why closer? Why not further?
I feel further. If I were truly closer, why do I feel so far?
If the objects are closer, then why are they used as a device for distance?
If we are closer, then why do they get to judge me?
Are we not meant to be a family?
In the reflection, I fail to find what society sees.
I am made of a stem and leaf, yet I see my waist and shoulders.
Society sees luscious petals; I see my eyes.
What about my roots? What about them.
I can’t find them.
I see a fractured reflection. A lie.
I see eyes and arms. Hands. Feet.
A white coat. An ID badge that hangs.
The plastic card that gives me power.
The little letters that I worked hard to get but did not improve my life.
Just like the mirror, a false reflection of me.
Even in a room of mirrors, I would never find myself.
Turns out, I don’t exist.
Looking for a person that is only a figment of society.
A creation of what you wish I was.