Who Is That In The Mirror?
What has happened to you?
your hourglass is top-light-
of sand-grain and Life,
so obvious, your changes,
i had nightmares
of your deep set eyes...last night.
Still you squeeze and push
at the the egg-shell glass,
'til the crystal bares cracks
of pertruding veins,
[Look Familiar? ]
cracks of caveat,
while you obsess
in your world
of blind disfigurement,
standing front a mirror
on bruised, twigged legs,
beginning to bristle....,
buckle.......this paradox
of lean and green,
so fragile, now,
as paper rice,
or a pancreas-
malignantly dripping
from the nodes so lymp(h) :
such cruel, cruel pain;
if only you could see
what i see in your mirror,
this crime nothing short
of a masachistic,
self-inflicted dose-
of Assisted Suicide.
Anorexia Nervosa.
Should have called
Jack Kavorkian
so your final hours
could have been
far less painful...
Should have let you run your fist
through your mirror that night;
seven years bad luck,
the least of your troubles.
Just a Disorder?
Not a chance, mon ami;
this be a Disease called Assisted Death!
________ F j R ________
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
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