Wishing Well

We wished him well on his descent 
Into madness
I wished him well, for it was me.
Me looking into the mirror.
The mirror of my dreams.
My dream reality.

I think we have all wished for better days.
Without realising that this was it.
Better days presented to us with tea,
And sandwiches cut into triangles.
Presented on mother's best china plates.
Made in China.

These days spread out
Like the campaign map in a war office.

The war office of your life.
A war no one wanted to fight.
A war you didn't even know you were fighting.

The enemy was always yourself.

You look at yourself now, in the gilded mirror.
You only see the refection of your eyes.
Pools of contempt, with a hint,
Of bitterness and despair.

You see what you want to see.
Clouds painted on the canvas of the sky.
The abstract expression,
Of a life lived backwards.

Always backwards to where you thought it began.
But it didn't begin anywhere,
But here.
Now.

Throw whatever you want into
The wishing well.
Nothing ever comes back.