The thoughts never leave.
The normal things in life are less normal than they should be.
Eating, drinking, sleeping are all challenges.
The mirror that once displayed a smile and a soul full of love.
The finely cut angled metal, sculpted to display reflections. A scrap price of metal that withholds the utmost power; the power to alter a mind.
It allows for the ugliness and scorning to torment.
The demons unleashed have the power to change a like. They have the power to motivate self abuse. They have the power to make the fuel of the human life a sin. A simple predicament of to eat or to wither away. The power to make a gleeful soul burdened by fear and disgust.
But this scrap piece of metal is not the problem. It is simply the window; the open gates to a real problem. The problem is not inanimate objects, it is the way the human mind functions. It is the debate of the conscious and the reality.
What is true?
Beliefs?
Thoughts?
Or are the facts proved by experiments, tests and observation the only things that are true.
What shapes us?
Reality or realistic fiction?
This is the mirror.
About the Creator
Rheanna Philipp
Just a girl who finds writing as an escape
Keep reading
More stories from Rheanna Philipp and writers in Poets and other communities.
Adolescence
Adolescence the epitome of innocence. Shackles unlatched, ropes untied, white lies, like you’ll be fine, simply phrases that adults use to protect our precious souls. There are no restraints to the world of imagination that is within us all. Children’s souls rumbling, shaking, quaking with excitement. Tiny hands, clawing up the rigid structures of play. Griping and clinging to bars, children are monkeys swinging from trees, breathing in the fresh air of the sea, taking in the world with a lens that slowly gets lost as our minds evolve.
By Rheanna Philipp3 years ago in Poets
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author8 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.