- Q. Montejo

{ unfinished, unpolished -- will work at it - Quents }

He was a painter in a town that lived ages ago
Of some reknown for the talents that has slept in his hands
Nurimad was what people called him, "The Unmirrored Painter"
For he has a curse, that he can never see himself in a mirror

"I have painted the faces of kings and peasants alike
And of myriad kinds of smiles and frowns and sadness
Yet my heart is not content and it aches for something
That no one can tell me what I look like

Children can be told, "That you look like your father"
"With the cheerful eyes and grin that is your mother"
And they can look at their parents and see that it is
"I look like you, and your eyes are a perfect blue"

People can see me, they can tell me what I look like
Yet I yearn to see for myself how people see me as
Do I have the