The Weight of Glass

By Ekyot Singh

Mirror-mirror on the wall –

why won’t you lie at all?

Cherishing an all-out brawl,

such is your stupid gall.

Never me standing tall,

not once, not at all.

The night stays young, wish so did I. What a lie!

For the pear-shaped grief is such a bloody thief

of joy of digits in two, not the three which I rue

when my feet flail over the squared scale.

Alas! The truth tangoes at the annals of my youth,

bereft of a present pertained well-spent,

adept at a past that was never gonna last,

devoid of a future that I can’t yet suture.

Such is the glass that mocks my mass.

Fingers find a familiar fault again.

Cravings curl where comfort hides.

Screens shimmer, selling a softer sin.

Shame settles, sickly, in my skin.

Fading, frame by flickered frame –

My shade mouthing my name in blame.

Mirror-mirror on the wall –

why won’t you help at all?

Falling deaf to the call,

your silence breaks my fall.

Wish me climbing the wall,

over at the fantasy hall.

Close my eyes, the curtains part –

velvet veils guard a counterfeit heart.

Fear folds its arms around my name,

pride hides the pulse of shame.

Dining with dreams on silverware sighs,

where want is weightless, truth never tries.

Love loves me there, in perfect disguise,

her voice a lie that never dies.

Just another high the night amasses,

till dawn reflects in my fogged-up glasses.

I crave a vessel carved from ease,

a fortune found, not fought or earned.

My mind a map of mirrored keys,

my flaws all fixed, my scars unlearned.

I’d trade my sweat for silvered ease,

sleep through success, wake up adored.

To look divine, yet lose my place,

in a mirror maze of dreams that I can’t afford.

Craving the crown, not the majestic thorn,

chasing the crooked gloss, not the form.

Mirror-mirror on the wall –

why won’t you cheer-up at all?

Mouthing my truths in mirrored scrawl,

while your stillness frames my fall.

Silence screams the same old drawl –

I’m you, and you’re me, after all.

By Ekyot Singh