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IMPERFECT MAN
When the blemishes in the mirror,
Stare at me,
I am hurt:
Because I see who I am.
Nobody else knows, no one can,
But I am face to face with the man,
The man outside, the man within,
The man whom God calls a man.
I like the seemingly simplicity of the poem, yet it is not. I understand the concept well. I have always wondered if other human beings were so adept to seeing "the real person". Someone can be so beautiful so horribly deformed in essence.
Ah, but you must remember Sir Poet even in imperfection there is much beauty. It is all those little blemishes and tiny flaws that create the character that is so uniquely you! So be thankful even for those quaint little dents and chinks. For they show you are a being that has indeed truly lived and from your poetry I'd say lived you truly have. What you see in your mirror may hurt you but for others what they see in you might make them smile and think what a lovely poet this fellow is. Well, anyway that's how I would say it! Enjoyed this one. Loved the humility you displayed. Is this a case of 'Inside the Prince lurks a toad?' or is it the other way around? Do tell! you know who!..........again so why type it? laughs