A mirror tells a lot,
But only,
What we think.
What we think we see.
We never see the perfections.
Just always,
Those glaring,
Ugly flaws.
Like a moth,
Drawn to a flame,
We are bound to look,
Upon the evil mirror.
Until someone,
Has told us what we can find,
We see the broken pieces,
Of a beautiful whole.
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Poems
PoetryThis is a compilation of poems that I have written. I am very proud of them and I ask that you please don't steal them. If you want to put one in one of your books for some unknown reason, let me know first. I'll tell you if you have permission. Als...
