The mirror on the wall is absolute, and it shows you,
Wide eyed,
hallowed bones,
Chapped lips,
that are ever so mute
But you smile, so wicked
Brittle teeth gleam.
With your red lipstick
and you grin in carmine strife
looking nothing like life.
But everything like your father's fury.
And your own rage, in fear, you bury.
Like a good daughter, you act
and they never ask,
Where do you put the burden you carry?
The mirror whispers to endure
But there is no cure
Your mother gave birth to her pain
And you've gone insane
So you ask once again,
Mirror mirror on the wall,
Who is the most deranged of them all?
YOU ARE READING
Pages of my soul
Poetrymy very own original poetry - thank you for reading P.S. If you buy me a coffee I'll write a poem based off any topic of your choosing.
