I have decided to add a brief table of contents, for your convenience.
You're more than a child now, it's time to try something new.
Find a girl who's truly happy, look deeply in her eyes
That glow birght as the sun, but burn with beauty quite their own.
See beyond, through those eyes, all that is joyful, all that's wise.
When you break your gaze regard the world for the first time.
See it still through her eyes; regard wonders old but so new.
Happiness has burnt its image into our eyes like gold
Tell me what you see now, with all my heart I wish I knew.
Where did she learn, when did it slip inside?
In a masked mind, just how many things can hide?
Hidden within, things she doesn't know she knows
Behind a wall, where the melody's voice grows
Its memories, are carried from note to note
Now all brought up, things that were once so remote
The song reminds, how she's seen it all before
And now she knows, the pain will return once more
She's not surprised, for she's known it for so long
So much is clear, after the denial's gone
A bit too clear, the walls had their purpose too
Forgotten song, and the strain is lost anew
Why is the stranger in the mirror
Whose life is only skin deep
Who stares at me, so unlike she
Who claims no secrets hers to keep?
How is the stranger in the mirror
World bound by reflected light
That can't be wrong but is not right
That's never quite the same as sight?
Thank you dear stranger in the mirror
For weaving protective lies
For hiding me from searching eyes
And for perfecting my disguise.
Rage
When I finally can't take it any more
I thrash about, hit the wall, the mirror falls
Shatter the mirror
She is bleeding, dying, my dear stranger in the mirror
All eyes on me
I'm unprotected, they are unprotected
The illusions have been destroyed
They see how weak I am
They turn away to see something else
The shattered glass begins to float
Shifting, shaping
She is here again, standing beside me,
She did not disappear when her reality was destroyed
The stranger, fighting me
I am weak against my own illusion
Each blow slicing me
It is no longer her blood they see
"Papa tell him a story," says Momma to the dad.
"Hurry think of something, or else he will be mad,"
A voice inside her screams.
"Let me find a story," calls the Papa from the shelf,
Looking for a title 'bout a prince or elf.
There are none to be found.
"I don't have a story," to the mom whispers dad.
"There is simply no tales in our house to be had.
Stories just aren't around."
"Then just make up a story," says Momma with a sigh.
"If we don't do something, our son will start to cry."
but silence fills the home.
No one tells a story like the lore we once wove.
The storyteller's spirit dies not long ago.
The gift of tale is gone.
If you told a story and started up the trend
Of telling lore, legends, and tales that never end,
You would begin the glory
Soon, all would tell a story to pass on who we are
Dark ages won't befall us, stories never far.
Please tell us a story.
As I dig out my papers, this page will be added to. Til then, fare thee well.
I would appreciate any (or most, anyway) comments in regard to this page. Mail me at MHRochette@hotmail.com
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