"Like what you see?" cackling, they hold a mirror
As if I'm to see a gray, deteriorated skeleton
But my name's not Winston Smith and this isn't 1984
With narcissism, they've loved themselves with bolstering
Pride; am I expected the same, unable to reject my allure
And fiery passions?
Should I bow for water
But see me and lose my will to live
Despite suicide
At least Narcissus became
A gold and white blossom
"Like what you see?" I laugh in return
But being beyond giving blame
Reflected reality is unrecognizable
A dissociation between me and we
And perspective
Jailers have grown fat with time
And with shit-stained beard
I try to not despise a world so cruel
They say, "Look again"
Don't they see misanthropy
In their cruelty, and the loss of faith
In humanity behind my eyes
Have we become Narcissus' foil
Recognizing neither Self nor surroundings
Blank stares without even admiration
Do I hate what I see
Deterioration in my neck
A constant pain throbs down my spine, never healing
Cyclical as a metronome's teetering
Is my worship and reverence a mere product of what I could attain
"I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys," he spoke
"And his banner over me is love," I've said
With no crocus, tulips, nor narcissi here
I wonder what happened
To his "Little Briar Rose," the loveliest of brides
I see no daffodils in the mirror
But I give this image back to you My offering
You're Lord over roses and the field's lilies
Even when I've nothing to say