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
How am I supposed to be loved
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.
And every morning,
when I finally turn to face the mirror,
I look into a pair of eyes
I do not recognize.
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!
Leave a Reply