The mirrors deceive,
they show someone who's not me.
a little bit of uncertainty
fills the face of the reflection that's not me.
A smile on my face,
but the reflection only frowns,
why is it, that my reflection's so down?
My eyes so clear,
But in my reflection, there's a tear.
Am I really who is in the mirror?
I'm so calm but my reflection screams.
Is it that this is a dream?
I reach out to touch it,
but it drifts further away.
Why does it break down,
when I'm still in one piece?
The sudden realisation comes to me,
the reflection shows the inside reality.
So calm yet so broken,
my reflection shows the truth of me.
Wardah Arshad's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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