Bald - Poem by Sarah Ibrahim
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
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 ©
Comments about Bald by Sarah Ibrahim
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda