It is seeing and acknowledging the person before you... the person right in front of your eyes... the one who declares themselves as you... can you truly love the person who you are.
For the first time in my life
I faced the mirror,
The thought of seeing me
Made me quiver.
My reflection just stood there:
A perfect imperfection of myself.
I reached out my hand
To touch the reflection-
But it didn't do the same,
I laid my hand on my heart,
It neither budged nor moved.
I wasn't the person in the mirror
And neither was it me.
My fists strike at my reflection.
Piece by piece,
Shards of fine glass
Break from the frame.
Folds, creases, and tears cover the mirror.
But my reflection just stood there, exactly the same
Unamused, and unaware that it's being abused.
When all was done
I looked back into the mirror
It was still there, a distorted form of me.
Closing my eyes I stop and breathe
But when I looked back, I came to realize.
I wasn't staring back at the mirror
The mirror was staring back at me.
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