What’s in the mirror you ask?
Just the potential for broken glass.
Because something clear cannot be changed,
Nor can the feel of pity exchange.
I know I can’t be a good person,
A danger is how I should be identified,
Or maybe I’m just trying to justify
All the bad things that happen.
But, maybe there’s more to this thought,
Of all the things we were taught,
And the upbringing they gave us
Was how our minds were bought.
So I don’t mind being the one,
That burns with the pain
Of a thousand suns, but,
I’ll still stand here, waiting for the rain.