This in the mirror is mental illness before you,
Thoughts bounce off each other, like a chained tether-ball;
Coming round once, and you are loathe to recognize-
But back again later, the same thoughts have stalled.
Who is to blame for the spiritual vacuum,
The thoughts obsessive that refuse to leave;
Was a game you played once, when your spirit was restive,
Now the hours left over are becoming a sieve.
You are the mirror, shining you back at you;
And the blindness was mercy, but the game's now a joke;
The lack of real seeing makes everything darkness-
And the memories you're wrapped in, have become a vain cloak.
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-mirror-24/
