Looking in a mirror
I see myself as you do
I see my face, my hands, my hair
But does this mirror hold true?
How do I know, that in your eyes
I look the same as here?
And when the mirror sees happy smiles,
Do you detect a tear?
How can this thing of shiny glass
for the truth-be trusted?
How can this object state so much
Even worn and rusted?
I just can't seem to understand
How we stake so much in this
A silly figment of ourseleves
-The point, I seem to miss
Don't rely on a thing of glass
To, of your beauty, speak
-An item in your dressing room
That's neither strong nor weak
So ask yourself, what do you see
When you look into your soul
Is it the image in your mirror-
Is that what makes it whole?