Poetry

Behind the Mirror

She lurks behind the mirror
Whispering the truths
My face a poor defence
For actions that she moves

Forever patient, there she waits
My true self – mask removed
My face a poor escape
So she wallows in her tomb

As I grow, does she
Ripening fierce desires
My face a poor disguise
For undiscovered fires

I fear her, loathe her, love her

Pushing her below

My face a poor impression

Of things that we both know

She cries sometimes – In her Pandora’s Box
Yearning to be free
My face a poor reflection

Of who is really me

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