“You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Whom reside’s in my reflection, each time I look to view. For the majority of my forty-seven years, tis you whom I believe I knew, that self-loathing thing I suffer, that slices me in two, that borderline, bipolarity, that unfair reality.
With one side dark as night, the other shine’s so awfully bright. When brightness comes it feeds the world, relieving the starvation and deprevation, from that which it unfurls, waking up that hunger for beauty, love and truth. Then darkness enter’s, whether despair to drain, else rage in vain, here tis when I look and see, tis Dorian Gray reflected in me, the look so fair, on outer flair, yet dark so deep it’s rotting heap, drips within, as blood churns black, where the hell am I at?
This letter is a Dear John you see, for you shall no longer hear from me, you can go back where you belong, back into Oscar’s creative throng, back into the leaf’s of scripted word, back into the film’s picture’s made worth.
Dorian, I no longer see you in my reflection, for I have accepted my affliction, I am what I am, yet can be whom ever I wish to be, so I will no longer see, that version of you and me.
I bid you farewell, for you to release, as I am letting go, so please…go now, forever be gone, back to a creation, a fiction, a picture in song.