(I write my poems in a vignette style so i apologize if you think paragraphs are too long. Anyways here is the poem:
I feel sorry for mirrors. Imagine not being able to look at yourself. Not that the inanimate object needs to, but when two mirrors face each other it just magnifies them an infinite amount of times, not truly seeing itself. But, maybe that’s for a good reason.
Mirrors never judge or point out flaws it’s only the person that sees themself. I bet when a mirror looks back at the wonderful person in front of them, they must think that they are beautiful. The mirror sees their legs. Their outfit. Their face. Their hair. Their nose, hips, knees, elbows, shoulders. Their eyes, and must think: wow. They are really beautiful. They are incredibly handsome and stunning. They belong on a magazine cover.
Instead the mirror hears, “god, I wish my thighs weren’t this fat.” “I wish my arms were bigger.” “My stomach looks so bloated.” “My shoulders are too square looking.” “I hate my face shape.” “I look ugly in these clothes.” I wonder if the mirror ever felt guilty that it made people see themselves that way. I wonder if the mirror tries to convince them that they look absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. No one would listen because the person was too busy seeing all the “flaws” to see their talent or style.
I feel sorry for mirrors because this is what they must hear everyday. A thought evolves to be criticism over every opinion. Having no one say anything at all is sometimes worse than them giving insults, and white lies.
And I wonder that if a mirror could see itself, would it notice all its imperfections as well?
