I don't see what you do,
When you look in a mirror at me
What you see is perfect,
you say
And I have to wonder
Are we looking in the same mirror?
Because when I peek through my fingers,
The mirror is cracked,
Making my image unrecognizable
And still I know it is me
Not this perfect picture you have explained to me
What I see reflected is how I feel
So shattered and cracked
And tried to piece back together again
The glue used to keep the broken pieces
Of the mirror in place
Stains my image imperfect
And that's the real me
i love it ken but i am really curious if its what i think its about.. VERY KOOL love it ken ~Becca
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i like this poem a lot and i know what u mean i seriously run away each time i see myself in the mirror