Bald Poem by Sarah Ibrahim
Bald
In front of a mirror I stand
With a shaving machine in hand...
Watching a reflection
But seeing nothing
Other than a figure without affection...
On goes the machine
Playing the expected scene ~
Down goes the hair
Falling ~~
With Images of beauty, love, and Fair...
Now the outside suits the in
A waste land and a hollow ~
An emptiness with no end...
Sarah Ibrahim ©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 5:36:44 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
