My Own Nemesis..

Serenity..
Such a word..
Filled with the sense of ever still water..
Rolling around on my tongue..
Serenity on the outside..
Violent storm on the inside..
Outside my house the birds are singing..
The buzzing of the bees all around...
The smell of flowers penetrating even the boarded up windows..
I look to the mirror..
the silver lined melted sand that reflects the image of a haunted young man..
I see me..
Blond hair all ruffed up..
steel grey eyes that penetrate the glass itself..
I see myself..
calm..
Breathing trough my nose and out my mouth..
But this is all a charade..
inside me the storm is at it's most violent..

Hand outstretched..
Broken glass on the floor..
Blood dripping from his hand making small thuds akin to rain..
After all even mirrors lie..
If he cannot trust his own image whom can he trust then..?

-Mybrokenwings