Ego Eyes

A mirror image piece of mind I seek;

a shade of brightest shadow where I might
portray the picturesque from pots of bleak,
construct the light of day from dark of night.

A casualty of life-inflicted pain,
in fear of fear itself, I would protect
the cloth of my umbrella from the rain,
the fragile self from trial by retrospect.

A perforated sheath, I realize,
a double-cross entrendre metaphor,
can only serve to draw my ego eyes
to focus on the pain I would ignore.

Ah, would there were a blade to alter death,
to cut away the pain and save my breath.

© Copyright 2004 Wayne D. Neighbors