Empty Mirror

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have I sinned

a certain sin I cannot atone for?


will I stroll through earth feeling miserable,

like my life has no worth—

like I’m meaningless,

not even worthy of a reflection

when I stare

into an empty mirror?



everywhere I go

anger boils in my soul,

a reminder that life is futile

and meaningless.

yet still I go,

on and on,

like a roundabout—

ferri’s endless wheel,

stuck on a seat

chained and cuffed by my feet.


where is my consent to this ride?

how can I come down?

I need an escape,

yet I cannot.


I stare at the floor beneath me,

a thousand feet below,

and I know:

if I fall,

I plunge to my demise—

but maybe it is better for me

to be gone once and for all.


but still,

I am cuffed,

unable to loosen this constraint.


my religion confuses me.

the only certainty I feel

is that there is no God.

there must be no god—

because if he is real,

he must be mean,

mean and cruel.


can he not see

the evil in the world?

or does he enjoy it?

why call him a he?

why never a she?

why not an it?


God, can’t you see?

I see you,

I need you,

but I hate you

in the same breath

as I do.


can you not hear my cries?

just once—

prove to me you’re real.

but you’re not.

you never have been.


and this anger I feel

is self-inflicted,

self-directed.

I am mad at me

for my foolish faith

in a higher being,

my choice of escapism.

I believed in him—

but he is not.


reality is ours.

we mask our lives with smiles.


but have I sinned

a certain sin

I cannot atone for?


or will I stroll through earth

feeling miserable,

like my life has no worth—

like I’m meaningless,

not even worthy of a reflection

when I stare

into an empty mirror?

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