Reflection *rewrite and re-edit*A Poem by Adam M. SnowAlone am I this night of flutter, confusion reigns, so I utter. The air is that of a clouded dream; so dark like that of an ordeal gleam.***A finished rewrite and edit of one of my older poems***
Reflection Written by Adam M. Snow I am alone this night of flutter; confusion reigns, so I utter, "The air is that of a clouded dream; so dark like that of an ordeal gleam." I wonder where this fancy bestowed me; in a room, damp it be. My vision is blurred by this smoky scene. I see only a table, draped of shallow green. I pondered there for a moment, a moment it was; but apparently a moment too long, came abuzz. It echoes louder, louder atop of that table cloth; calling to me my once forgotten troth. So heedfully I approach the table with ease, Seeing afar it covered in bluish frieze. My vision once blurred, now felt clearer; that vanity table shown an olden mirror. Now from the vanity table, a mirror I now held I glanced upon myself, now greatly compelled. A face has shown, was I yet not I, it cursed myself to die. The image that was shown had shadowed a vision: Ye or I inter sweet derision, o'er thy pass of insanity wake as much of pain as I could take. The mirror’s shown cracked; I feel it no more. My heart beats cold, my days be hoar. I'd fallen apart to lose my way; “Am I now one in a blackened day?” I watch my life now turned to mist; The writer is I, who cannot exist. I shown cracked in my own reflection these wounds are the signs of my affliction. I am one in this reflection shown two; seeking to make my life anew. I asked my reflection to be shown; my truth, my past is left unknown. I ask of thee, "Let it be done." The writer is I, the lonely one My reflection, it strains drops of blood; engulfs it now in life's lowly flood. My eyes are stained as I lay cold, I am weak-bound growing old. My voice is muted as my heart now breaks; my body's bounded, my soul still aches. Misery whelms my ever being, leaving I without a sight for seeing. Burned into my mind, a vision of pain as the mirror, cursed me insane. To be upon a mirror image, upon a worldly scrimmage. My reflection does not show this truth I do not dare to know. The mirror’s cracked; I feel it no more. My heart beats cold, leaving me sore. I've fallen apart and lost my way; “Am I but one in a blackened day?” I long for amity among benevolence, a sought after among your prevalence. I am now we and we look back; my ember morn has now grown so black. The mirror is shattered, my image is not; my demons has shown its devilish plot. I've been raised yet to have fallen- My life, my heart song is stolen. My reflection in vision pains, I am bound by my worldly chains. I am force to face myself in this state, the mirror shows, it-is-my-fate. My image is broken yet is whole, I seek only for my life's role. I'm reaching through out the dark, my only light a petite spark. Nevermore will my reflection show; I'm lost with no place left to go. The mirror's lust has failed; is this not where I dwelled? My tears are falling upon my reflection this holds for me no resurrection. This cracked mirror now shows only one; the life in this mirror is nearly done. My reflection, it is not new; like the mirror it's turning blue. I, myself gone insane, I shall not lack in vain. I am not myself, let I be smite; this is the shine of evil's light. I only love yet I still hate, I know now it is my fate. I feared myself, of who I am, curse me now let thee be damned. Bow ye not of I with shame, only I am whom to blame. I cannot live like the past,
nor the future of all in vast. © 2014 Adam M. SnowFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorAdam M. SnowPhoenix , AZAbout"The writer’s mind, can surpass even the most intellectual minds." –Adam M. Snow I keep my work clean, I write to inspire others. Some people would even call me a philosopher, but w.. more..Writing
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