He wakes every morning to a reflection in the mirror he no longer recognizes
He wonders where the young and innocent boy of his youth has gone
The boy who found beauty in spring and laughter in the grass
All he sees now is a cynical man whose very essence is full of contempt
He remembers the smile of the boy when he would see his favorite cartoon
Or the tears in his eyes when he would scrape his knee
Now all he sees is the dismal look that has been inked upon his glare
Or the the lines on his brow from the disapproving looks he shares
Perhaps the boy he recalls was merely a shadow of a dream he woke from
Perhaps that boy never existed and was only for show
Yet he struggles to find that boy inside his eyes as he stares every morning
He struggles feverishly to find that lost piece of his soul but to no avail
He will go through the day as any other and commit sin and treason
And he will awake again in the morning to search for that boy to sooth his pain
Jameson Wilds 