I hang from a wall in a dark, dank, closet,
Longing for eyes to look upon me,
Only receiving the eyes of a girl
Who has seen pain,
Nothing else.
She looks at me with sad, cold, eyes.
I am the image in her reflection,
Not pleased with what she sees,
She covers me,
Leaving no light.
But I am relieved
Of those cold dead eyes
That have seen so much pain
Because I am a spitting image of her
A mirror
Ive seen all her pain
Through her eyes
Because in that moment
Her eyes were mine
And as a mirror
I saw everything
Things that no one else could see
For I am a mirror
On the wall
Spitting image
Of she.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow that's a really good poem! It's so deep and meaningful!