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I looked in the mirror today. I saw a face that was not my own, or at least not how people have described it to me, when they know not who they are talking to. My eyes do not glow red. My teeth, thought not perfect, are not sharpened points, tainged with black. There is no blood running down my face. At one point, there would have been, I am not the cleanest fighter. But it does not trickle out of my mouth, from where I have bitten my opponents. This being said, whilst some describe my face as that from hell itself, other give it grace. My eyes niether sparkle, or shine. Maybe they once did, but time changes thing. My skin has not the fairness they attribute it, and I have noticed that my mouth is not always in a smile, nor is my forehead creased with lines from laughing too much. Truth be told, it is more likely creased with lines from frowning. I look at myself, and I must wonder. What am I? Am I the game piece, that is pushed aroundby others, and used to complete ends? Or the player? Who controls the others, making their choices for them? Or, am I the crafter? Do I shape the peices, give them what the need, and then give them to some one else? Or am I simply a renegade peice, that moves about the board on its own, endagering the life of others. I think that would fit me the best. If I have learnt one thing in my time as a renegade peice, it is that I work better alone, but I what for company. For some one to hold. For a home. In this space and time. Not home in memories. A real place to call my own. With people I love, and hold dear. But the more I strive for it, the more it eludeds me. So I look to people I know. I ask them questions. I try to make them have what they want, so I may see them with it one day, and feel happy. So, when I look in the mirror, I must wonder. Am I the hero? No. Am I the person that enables others to be heros? Perhaps. Or am I that which strives to lead the maker of heros, and protect that person? Maybe. Truth be told, I fit none of these. I am that guy, the one that you will look back at one day, not relise what he did for you, and think; I wonder what became of him? But, for all your talk, and thinking, yuo will not seek me out. Perhaps it is better that day. Chances are I will be long dead before that. Helping you. But I can always have memories. They are some comfort. And I will love them, and the people in them, until I scream my final cry of pain, and throw my final punch, and try my final effort, to make your world better, so you may not just live simply, but simply live.

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Parmas

Mt Eliza, Australia

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Artist's Description

Well, I cant give am accurate description of my own work. Just read it.

Artwork Comments

  • Sterling
  • HeatherTS
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