Thursday, March 13, 2008

Poem XX

A mirror renders us vulnerable
Open to dissection and discernment
That impenetrable morass of smiles
Inhabited solely by reflections
Face to face with the silent surface
We hold no conversation with our self
The hardness of our features speaks
Words of cold marble and dust
Our only infinity a hall of mirrors
Where our weaknesses are multiplied
To extenuate our vanities

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