Does a mirror show the truth?
I could be a girl for all I know,
Or look like one at least.
Might be so ugly,
Or very handsome.
A monster
Or Tom Cruise.
That mirror
Like a television
May have a life
Of its own.
So if that glare
Should ever be switched off
(For any reason)
Then my real image
May resurface:
A scabby, gargoyle horror
Mutated
From atomic war.
Or, some radiant beauty,
Freed from the mirror's
Shining cell.
Mirrors!
© PB, Humberside,28\1\2011.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem