From Scratch

I write while looking in the mirror

at me I see the ankh that hangs

around my neck to what ideology

I pay my homage to and give much respect

my face changes with each expression

the tip of my pen making impressions

closed doors to open confessions

scribbling through words to make corrections

eye to eye contact making connections

with my haunting reflection

taunting me to look angrily upon

thoughts of society while absorbing

the music playing on iTunes throughout

the atmosphere and ambiance of my room

over my shoulder a portrait

of my grandparents

who has been out of the picture so long

the view is almost transparent

and apparent to me that the

two of them are watching over me

wishing I had that good ol’

hot water cornbread recipe

I'd go to the kitchen and whip up a batch

my thoughts start to race

ahead of my thinking

my eyes bat and wander

all over the place

back and forth in my mind

I start to pace

my heart beating in surround sound

my mean mug and frown

dare my face to smile

I find myself to be too serious

and noticeably unapproachable

I see inside of me the faces of many

trying to face the different sides of me

behind the mirror with what's behind me