The Unembellished Reflection

The Unembellished Reflection

A silent witness, it has been
Plethora of tales, it has seen
Some nostalgic, some delightful
Some melancholic, some frightful
The mirror stands placid

The model with a golden glow
Wants to look pretty, all for show
In the wee hours, trembling, weeping
Dysphoric, morbid thoughts, creeping
The mirror smirks, night haunts

The bride smothered with kisses, red
Adorned with jewels, newlywed
Now covered with bruises, black, blue
She hides the mirror that sees through
The mirror sighs, feigned love

That poor unacknowledged daughter
Asks, “My dream, why did you slaughter?”
Bound by taboos, nowhere to run
Broods, “If only I were a son!”
The mirror mourns, dead soul
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