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Looking Through a Broken Mirror


                The walls of this church are covered with stained glass windows, and murals of stories told long ago. On this early morning, the sunlight blares through the colorful glass causing it to dance across a spectacle’s face. He sits on a wooden pew next to a white-haired reverend. The man is maybe no younger than twenty-three. The young man’s black hair curls in opposite directions around his youthful face.  But what truly catches my eye, or rather my ear, is what the young man says.


Hello Brother, it’s nice to see you again.

It’s a quite beautiful morning,

the sun is bright and the clouds float carelessly in the light blue sky,

but the sun burns my eyes and

the clouds are just signaling an upcoming storm.

This world is full of deceiving things;

it takes all the wolves and places them in “harmless” lamb’s clothing.

But things don’t matter to you and me.

The reason I’m here you ask?

I say you should know the answer to this truly troubling question.

Why am I here?

Why must I dwell on this horrid earth?

Why am i forced to wander around without a purpose,

without a reason,

without a path to walk upon?

These questions always find a way to follow me.

Anyways, the reason I am here in this pew,

is to speak on the behalf of a “true” friend.

My friend, oh my friend,

he barely leaves the house,

and when he does he stays as out of sight as possible

from fear of someone following him.

This man sleeps with a gun next to his bed and as

he turns off his light at night he prays to God

that no one takes what he owns, or

even worse,

no one takes his life.

He fears that if he does die,

the Lord won’t take his soul and

he would be forced into the depths of hell, for

fear is his sin.

Fear haunts him and tears at his skin until he no longer feels.

The world outside taunts him and makes him cower inside.

He has no friends, for the people that roam the streets are

cruel to his fragile heart.

Why do you question what I say is true?

You know the same young man and yet you doubt?

I swear all I say is truth;

this man only speaks to reverends on unholy days,

when the pews are empty and the pulpit bare.

I only see him when I gaze into my broken mirror.

You look at me as if I’m insane,

you say you see, but you haven’t opened your eyes;

no one ever sees what is right in front of them.

If only they could see…

The roads are starting to get crowded so,

 I must bid you a good-day and,

a good-bye.

Sir, I tip my hat to you for hearing



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