my past I now no longer look,
I shut my eyes and crossed the brook.
mirrors reflect what I expect
Only the things I have regretted.
What a fragment made from sand
spectacular to behold
But, alas, a knock to come
Only tragedy unfolds.
And brooks I crossed with great despair
on whether I get the truth
As painted by the mirror then
That truth may not be true
Ugly paintings are still paintings
Just as life is life
What we get we don't expect
But will we tell the lie?
PS: No idea how to end it. 4th paragraph may be edited again. Very tough to end. Even right now, the ending is not good. Sad.
PPS: 4th paragraph edited 20 Feb 2015