The Mirror

I stare at my face,
distorted in mirrored glass.

As I look at my eyes and my skin,
I can only hope
everyone sees me differently
than I do.

As I peer into the mirror,
I can’t help but wonder:
who am I supposed to be
without you?

How am I supposed to be loved
without you?

Beauty is illusive and exclusive.
The self rarely feels beauty while focused on the flaws.
And when I stare into the mirror,
the flaws are all that I can see.

Upon the mirror are fingerprints
and scratch marks, wild attempts
to break myself free
from the reflecions on the glass.

How am I supposed to love myself
while I know you?

I get ready every morning the same.
Hair,
teeth,
face,
clothes.

And every morning,
when I finally turn to face the mirror,
I look into a pair of eyes
I do not recognize.


Yellow sign that reads: DEAD END, TURN AROUND

I am a young poet and photographer frequently sharing works revolving around nature. Follow my blog if you wish to see more of my musings in the future!

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