Mirror

Mirror, my mirror, posed on the bricks,
Why are you melancholic?
Why are there ripples flowing down your cheeks?
Why are you looking sick?

What has made the figure inside you
So robotic in its stance?
Why does it fail to see me through,
Why, shame in its glance?

I can hear you, though you're lip-less,
You madly yearn for me,
You miss my eyes, you miss my face,
And all you want to see.

Your lost child has been long derailed,
Off a human life,
I am the spilt apple body, freshly veiled,
My soul lost to the knife.

But its enough, I'm back to you,
And the shape within smiles,
One trip of life, many things to do,
Within the small miles.

And to enjoy it, you must be your lord,
No master should command,
No fear for guns or wicked swords,
Should stop your hand.

When it seems life's full of pace,
Its just slowing you more,
Think once, and, off you race,
to let your mind soar.