THE MIRROR

ZERKHALO…

Some days ago he had been living with a lower head,

While the shoulders were still positive and straight,

To others he looked like a injured soldier of a battle.

Giving a sign of being dejected, may be betrayed,

He never yelled anything to anyone about the reason,

But within himself he considered himself as a victim.

Though he was broken from inside but still had some smile,

Because he had gained some sympathy in his own terms,

And gave a tag of cheater to the one he thought as responsible.

But that day changed the way he used to walk with such notions,

When he saw the whole picture with a neutral angle,

And found himself as the guilty who was actually responsible.

That day he woke up with similar thoughts in his mind,

Missing those days with her, recalling her face and smile,

And then recalling how she ruined and betrayed him.

In the washroom he washed his sleepy eyes, which had her image,

And then he gazed into those eyes trying to see that mirage,

That took him into her eyes and into the memories he missed.

But it’s a different vision then he used to have always,

Now he sees himself, just like if he is looking at mirror,

But he can’t see her, but only her hands with him on front.

He can read her mind and can feel her emotions,

As if he has gone inside her and looking by her view,

And then  felt the pain and trouble of her given by him.

The more time passes the more he cried from inside,

The more he became an opponent of his own acts,

and began to hate himself just like she does.

Wait, its her view and everyone has a partial view,

He asked for a neutral view from his own eyes,

To defend himself for the last time, he gave a try.

So the eyes took him out from her going by his will,

Now, in  a frame he could see both of her and himself,

And began the analyses by trying to keep himself up.

Again, the time passed and he started listening them,

Listening what they said, and watching what they did,

At last even after trying to give himself some benefit, he lost.

He cried, punched himself and tried to support her,

But realized that it was too late to stop anything,

he couldn’t  feel his own punch, so how could she feel his sorry.

He didn’t punch him for losing those arguments,

To lose her was his ultimate loss more than his own guilt,

And he cursed himself for being living with the wrong concept.

We often, so easily, took ourselves as a victim,

That we forget to evaluate what we actually did,

So we keep living in a world built by our fake instinct.

And leaving that person to with a guilt feeling,

This was actually our liability to clarify everything,

But we are never ready to play by keeping that ego aside.

Now he has changed the way he used to walk,

And his head matches with his lowered shoulders,

To  others he looks like a soldier who turned away.

Giving a sign of being dejected, but not betrayed,

He never yells anything to anyone about the reason,

But within himself he knows who is the real victim.