Their reflections.
The very ones that bounce off me daily.
Every face that has looked to me.
Some cry.
Some frown.
Very few smile at what they see.
Why?
They look perfect to me.
They are just how they are.
And that is perfection.
No one can beat you at being you.
YOU ARE READING
The Odd Poem
PoetryAn odd poem here and there.... some depressing, some thought provoking, and a bit of humour here and there....
