Reflection

Sometimes I just stare at the mirror
Perfect reflections of everything on the silver lining behind the glass.
Everything in its muddled up world, displaced towels an such. Commonness, scattered across the cold, dead marble. Even the marble, wet and yellow, though it should be white.

As I stare, the voices, even now, they make it so hard to find my own reflection. Discover what is it. Who is it they possibly could see that's worth anything. I can't see it.

Some of them, they even solidify my craziness. Such worthlessness, hopelessness. Why would they tell me those things? How could they do that? Knowing my soul's reaching as hard as it can towards the crowd. Towards anyone who could pull me from this madness. Screaming. Can't they hear me? Save me from myself !
Insanity's plea to deaf ears and stone hearts.

They say I cause this silent solitude of discourse. They claim their hearts are blackened by my pure presence in their lives. My living nightmares have tainted their once brilliant world.

Perhaps they are right and I should give up this fight. But when I do, they hold onto me, dragging me back in. Yelling I can't be selfish, but what of them? They have lengthy futures and mine growing dim. All I want is my final fight to matter, to procure my strength. Not in body but in heart, mind and spirit.
These within I shine bright as stars. But they look upon me as I do my reflection.