It’s easy. I know.
A tiresome human characteristic
To believe what is in the mirror.
It’s hard to not see a disillusion,
The best view of you is not in your reflection.
It’s in their eyes.
Those eyes that see you,
Those who hear your true voice,
Not the one that you hear in your head,
The voice that flows into their being.
They won’t fail you.
The ones that count.
They flourish in your vision,
Where you doubt, they have hope,
Strength you lack, you gifted to them.
They gift to you as well.
Being the image that you deserve,
So that you no longer need,
To listen to your internal monologue,
And paint your own reflection.
(Not 100% this is where I want this, but for now.)
