Unforgiving Reflections
by Odin Roark

Life’s not a bowl of cherries,
It’s a comedy of errors.

Like a corpse refusing to die,
An attempted burial forever postponed,
Past mistakes appear to never realize interment,
Self-loathing, the death defying destroyer, seems forever.

How pervasive our hording of errors,
Fault’s buried-deep-admonition
Denying mistakes deserve closure,
Goading us instead to carry the extra baggage
As guilt laden badges of honor.

How tenacious the hiding…
These mirrored shadows,
Revealing how meticulously faults are collected.

From the daily shave for some,
The application of make-up for others,
All serve our self-adjudicated punishment,
Guilt’s aging toll most apparent in dry wrinkled faces,
Folds of decaying sags beneath fastidiously groomed beards,
And gray strands hidden amongst obsessively coiffed hair.

Have they no closure,
These undying blunders,
These reflections of self
That remain unforgiving?

Was Freud right?

What if id and ego’s right and wrong debate is eternal?
After all, the superego, our patient judge,
Has no where else to go,
Nothing more to do.

Shit…

Maybe it’s time to destroy all mirrors.

Good idea?