I must write facing a mirror
between stanzas,
I look up
or perhaps I write
in between glances

my poems are not to any man
I would never flatter a brute
in such a meaningfully taunting way
as to make him my muse
they are addressed to my reflection
and they solely describe my relationship with it

my claims of cowardice
though much of it surrounds me
are not a weapon
but a masochistic truth
I must unleash upon myself wholeheartedly
for the sake of relative self-awareness

but this also means
that every pawn across my path
every beating and infatuation
has been in preparation
for the discovery of my own weakness

I infect myself in order to become immune
and my reflection appears impenetrable

some would call it realism
but I would not lie to myself that way
out of respect
I admit
I may be as much of a narcissist
as I claim everybody else to be

I was born out of mediocrity
it is easy to see
avoiding the thorns thus far
has done me no good

my mirror speaks nothing further