What do you see when you look at me?
Is my mirror really a reflection of whom
I am to be or is it an illusion.
false contusion of some unorthodox hoax a
mere image lost in a blind world were only sounds
are made and faces cannot be seen.
Why do I sense one thing and you
compliment another?
Is my eyes covered by
a substance not detected by others.
"of course" that's it'
my mirror has told me
lies about the superficial smile
that was painted
by an artist unknown
and the eyes that see
nothing through the dark
and eluded fantasy
of the cave in which they live.
Even the lips that speak mechanically
like a wind up toy
I need to be me
can somebody
please tell me what you see?
by Yvonne Coleman-Burney
Justonestoryteller
A nice poetic imagination, Yvonne. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Periodic self introspection from time to time is necessary to know and reassure oneself.