Self-pity

I looked at myself with borrowed eyes, and the mirror wasn’t mine either.
It must have been my inquisitive neighbor’s.
It was as though i wasn’t looking at myself but a brother.
I observed the broad Savanna of emptiness my heart harbours
And all the pains I’ve bore were scattered thickets.
In the open valleys of my eyes,  were flooded ponds of dead dreams
While those to which i still hold, could only fill a few buckets.
As i carried on with it, thoughts grew one on top of the other like ceiling beams.
In the same eyes, was a steady sky of lust and desire
Which i gave nothing but a still pitiful look.
It was white with grey patches of longing that were hesitant to retire.
The pity i gave it was one a free fish gives to that caught by a hook.
I saw coarse roots of kindness in my eyes still. They flow past rocky obstructions down into my heart.
It’s a cancer living with such boundless kindness. It kills you at the end.
I know kind people who’ve been done tremendous dirt
By the ostensibly harmless hands of a lover or friend.
When i looked at myself wholly; from fruitful head to tired feet,
I saw a Mvule tree that’s sustained a lot.
So i knew such a wretched feeling would also fleet
Just like any other mere thought.

What do you think?

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