What do you see when you look at me?
Is my mirror really a reflection of whom
I am to be or is it an illusion false
contusion of some unorthodox hoax a
mere image lost in a blind world were
only sounds are made and faces cannot
be seen
Why do I sense one thing and you
compliment another?
Is my eyes covered by
a substance not detected by others
” of course” that’s it my mirror has told me
lies about the superficial smile that was painted by
an artist unknown and the eyes that see
nothing through the dark and eluded fantasy
of the cave in which they live
Even the lips that speak mechanically like a
wind up toy I need to be me can somebody
please tell me what you see
Poetry
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