His shoes
are the pads, soles, arches, heels of his feet

His pants
are his brother’s, riddled with the holes of “falls” and “accidents”

His shirt
is red by an unfortunate dye

His face
is without a strong jaw, a grin, dimples, wrinkles from use, a straight nose, colored eyes, brows with the ability to raise

His hair
is shaved

His skin
is freckled heavily by a sun that beat down on him with black ink burned onto him in the form of skulls, bones, chains bound and broken, hanging tears filled and vacant, the slogans of a boy who has passed on and forgotten his home and forgotten his name

And I know this boy

This boy
is the man in the mirror


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s