by Amanda Proctor (15)
My eyes,
Can see through you
Through the transparent beauty of your skin.
You are the fake,
The one who is pretending.
My eyes,
Can see through the looking glass of yesteryear
Upon the beginning,
Upon the start
Where you relinquished yourself.
Who are you?
My eyes can see,
Deep within the walls of your soul
Into the self you know not of.
Burning the brand of destiny,
Into your soul.
The scorching iron flares
The mocking voice of your conscious,
Telling you, your faults
Naggingly redundant.
Revealing the truth,
Of who you are,
Of who you were,
And of who you pretend to be.
The relentless bearer of virtue.
Had you forgotten,
That under the mask lay a person
Other than the greasy layers of makeup.
A true person,
So delicately placed until further notice.
The buds of your flower open,
Baring the newborn petals of life.
Emerging from the cocoon, the butterfly
Fluttering the wings of a new destiny,
For the first time.
The truth suddenly apparent,
Yourself all aglow with light.
Your soul reborn for the watery depths
A second birth, another chance,
To prove you are once again you.
My eyes saw this,
They started this resurrection of soul
Now you are a whole, a real person!
Defying uncertainty!
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