I remember reading in a few different places
That the pupil of one’s eye expands up to 45%
When looking at someone you love
Well I stared in the mirror, to see for myself
And you know what the funny thing was?
I could have sworn my eyes stayed just the same.
Well, I had the presence of mind
To know for me, that this would never do
So I tossed up aires, and put on a farce
To let the world outside see me
Smiling gayeley back at it
But the mirror still lied
My how that mirror lied!
Even when turned to face away
I could hear glass lips pursing
Those old grey eyes
Never meeting an honest gaze!
Ugly little thing never telling truth
A smile a dour frown
Vibrancy put through by force
Never saw the looking glass
Little things, little things
No mind to them
The child’s a fibber
Not long and I was soon fed
Full of that glass’s nonsense!
Smooth skin, a youthful totem
Scaled, peeling, drying
A smile killed on that glass
A heart pierced on that glass
The old coot in that glass is a nasty one indeed
Laughing, laughing, laughing
I don’t quite see what the joke is
One should not find joy in telling untruths!
That senile bean motions closer
Peeling open my eyes
In the gloom of the room,
The dust settles on small canyons over the glass
Cracks through our face
Ancient, crooked face, sallow pupils
Many times, many times over
Smaller than I had ever remembered
But the fissures mend
And the glass melds to one beautiful tapestry again!
A healthy beam of white frolicking
Pupils small or not, smile wrong way up
And you know what the funny thing was?
I realized the mirror had been upside down the entire time!
Author Bio:
Andrew Stewart is a high schooler in Iowa who is dabbling with poetry.
That the pupil of one’s eye expands up to 45%
When looking at someone you love
Well I stared in the mirror, to see for myself
And you know what the funny thing was?
I could have sworn my eyes stayed just the same.
Well, I had the presence of mind
To know for me, that this would never do
So I tossed up aires, and put on a farce
To let the world outside see me
Smiling gayeley back at it
But the mirror still lied
My how that mirror lied!
Even when turned to face away
I could hear glass lips pursing
Those old grey eyes
Never meeting an honest gaze!
Ugly little thing never telling truth
A smile a dour frown
Vibrancy put through by force
Never saw the looking glass
Little things, little things
No mind to them
The child’s a fibber
Not long and I was soon fed
Full of that glass’s nonsense!
Smooth skin, a youthful totem
Scaled, peeling, drying
A smile killed on that glass
A heart pierced on that glass
The old coot in that glass is a nasty one indeed
Laughing, laughing, laughing
I don’t quite see what the joke is
One should not find joy in telling untruths!
That senile bean motions closer
Peeling open my eyes
In the gloom of the room,
The dust settles on small canyons over the glass
Cracks through our face
Ancient, crooked face, sallow pupils
Many times, many times over
Smaller than I had ever remembered
But the fissures mend
And the glass melds to one beautiful tapestry again!
A healthy beam of white frolicking
Pupils small or not, smile wrong way up
And you know what the funny thing was?
I realized the mirror had been upside down the entire time!
Author Bio:
Andrew Stewart is a high schooler in Iowa who is dabbling with poetry.
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