Broken Mirrors by @Yholar


I smiled at the mirror today.
I liked the curve of his smile.
It had a mischievous tilt. His smile reached his eyes. T
he smile of a man who enjoyed his life.
A man who lived to the fullest.
A man who was an accomplished liar.
A man who lived firmly behind his mask.

I grinned at the mirror this morning.
I like his grin.
It was the chuckle of a carefree man.
A man accustomed to riding the winds.
A man living by the seat of his pants.
A man gifted at hiding his fears.
A man who whitewashed the dark walls of his heart.

I laughed at the mirror this morning.
I liked his laugh.
The mirth echoing through the empty house.
It was the laugh of a heart-throb.
A man basking in the adoration of others.
The laugh of a confident man.
The laugh of a man hollow inside.
The laugh of a man wishing he wasn’t him.

My mirth exhausted.
I frowned at the mirror.
And I liked my frown.
It was the frown of an honest man.
Brows furrowed, eyes intensely staring into my soul.
It echoed my insecurities.
It spoke volumes about battles with fears.
Raging demons battled ragged angels behind the stern stare.
I saw it all.

I cried at the mirror this morning.
Spilling delicate tears.
Watery colorless silent rose petals
Washing a soul clean of fears.
Heightening the awareness of aloneness.
I liked my tears.
A raging flood of dew drops.
Thunder storms carried by a gentle breeze.
They were tears of a man afraid he would not amount to much.
They were lubricants trying to help the square pegs into the round hole.
They were good tears.

I cut myself in front of the mirror this morning.
I bled very red blood.
I liked my blood.
It was the blood of a man blessed with a curse.
It was the blood of a man who could see his blindness.
It was the blood of a starving man in a larder stocked with food beyond his reach.
I like my blood.
As I watched it slowly drip into the sink. My eyes gently closed.
A curtain of darkness sweeping over my consciousness.
I like my blood I think again.
As I fade into the dark.

• • •


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The Things Left Unsaid

Meet Oyinda Johnson, guest writer of today. iRead her poem and fell in love with it, so I thought I’d share.

                  The things left unsaid.


I’m new to this so I decided I’ll just tell you a little story,
I must warn it might be a little gory,
Cos I’m in that solemn mode, wanna tackle society’s recurrent statistics…if you know what  I mean

-Average Girl, not a sinner, not a saint
Lost in her own world, sitting still enough to paint
Straight shoulders slumped, shaped silhouette stained
And she’s beautiful right? But her beauty’s a little quaint.

-It’s cos she’s confused
Battling heart issues
Been dumped and used
And she does, she wants to refuse
But she cannot afford to lose
What little affection, gives her reason (makes her able) to smile at her reflection.

-Mama doesn’t care and
Papa was rarely ever there
and when he was?…
He penetrated her bare
I’m talking front and rear
Short legs, almost tear
Her round face, oozed fear,
Fluttering tears, Utmost Despair…

And soon enough neither did she,
She built herself not a mask but a wall for her face
And her heart, so all you see was that occasional grimace.
Solitude her torture, and yet her haven
With her sin, she thinks, there is no hope of heaven
You see her tainted smile, every once in a while

And neither do they.
I can’t point a finger
Because I’ve got many back my way.
Thus my guilt does linger.
Because I see an individual, walk past me with a half smile
And I do not bother, to heal their hurt, even if just for a little while.

See it wasn’t just papa
it was him and Uncle Moses.
That ruined her innocence
Treated her life with lackadaisal complacence
Blue are violets, red are roses
I’ve started a chapter and I can hardly close it

Love your neighbour, when it’s the hardest
Time flies like a bird but you cannot catch it.
Lend a helping hand if you can help it
Be a blessing and you won’t regret it.



Thank you for reading, please make use of the thought box and share your thought 😀

My thought -> We go through different phases in life, mistakes made, dreams tarnished, hopes smashed, so many things left unsaid. But just as this poem depicts, there’s no point in pointing a finger. Help that individual with the half-smile, lend a helping hand and be counted as a blessing.

But then, this is what I think, what do I know?

What did they do wrong?

What did they do wrong? was the first question that ran through my head as I looked at this people who came into this world they same way I did.

iTried to put myself in their shoes and i got blank! iWont survive. The thought of it alone was terrifying. … .We look at them and think OMG! pity! … how ‘wronger’ could we get!? These people are the strongest people i have ever come across! We need more help than they do. They know without a doubt that they are going to make it

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iCan walk , talk, n just wear an Underwear without putting on a Diaper and yet iStill complain! I was engulfed in shame! How ungrateful I’ve been. A man in wheel chair came to sing a special number n everywhere became silent… if a needle had dropped it would have disrupted the moment. it was simply beautiful! The words and vocal were mind-blowing! My head pounding, goose bumps   this same feeling came back again when a girl, who paints with her legs (her painting are sooo fresh) gave the ‘vote of thanks’. Talking was strenuous, her whole body was trembling … it was sad. … .but that’s  not were the story ends… against all odds she talked and iGot motivated!, Encouraged! So did everyone else in that hall. She spoke though with obvious disability yet had in her the ability to speak and reach my soul, my heart.

I’ll never forget her words hung on my neck like a golden chain I dare not remove.

God has given this people gifts … Ability in Disability…

We have a lot to be grateful for! Start thanking God now!