Mirror Man

They see themselves, reflections of,
That which they want me to be.
Always changing. Ever rearranging.
Constantly shifting and sifting,
Searching personas that pacify them
To find a face that fits their comfort zone.
Not all. Not needed. Not now. No more.
Seen past through my mask of mirrors,
Beheld, bewitched beyond control,
Revealed and reveled for only one to view.

14 comments

    1. Oh wow that IS an amazing sculpture. I find myself envious of those that can see such amazing places and lovely sights throughout Europe. I often wish I could just go and immerse myself there.

      Thank you for the poem praise as well.

      Liked by 2 people

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