A poem published by Mojave Heart Review. Original link was here (no longer valid).

If the link is broken, you can read it below.


Don’t scrutinise your tired eyes or worried lines
expecting answers that are not hidden there.
All is well. Symbols of time smudge your face,
remind you of each fleeting moment that made your life.

Don’t sigh at the sight. It is not to mourn.
Unleash the smile you locked up those years ago,
let it flicker and warm these dark times, where
the past, the present and the future merge.

Grey walls and a broken grimy mirror –
reflections of your stained, sold soul.
A crumpled atlas of your wicked choices
etched deep into the fleshy scars.

“You’re not done” you hear an inner voice whisper then
an evening call lines your fate against the metal bars.
It is time to move on, you say.
But you can’t escape it, the past is there. Always and forever.

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