Story of a broken mirror,
that lay lost in my attic
Many a moons ago
It had told stories about me
When I had looked for answers,
Was I pretty?
Do my freckles look nice and all in order?
The mirror would silently look back
And I would wonder
Would pink suit me or the golden yellow
Darn!
Befuddled mind of mine
But it would always tell me
And I would know
A mirror it was
Still many a times
I would talk to it,
Talk to the broken girl inside after a storm
I could always cheer her up, you see
But then I outgrew the need to know
How I looked, how I smiled
And the mirror, perhaps found out too
So one day
I found it broken
Million pieces of shards
Reflecting bits of me
and memories
Was it ok that I had let it go ?
I look for it amidst the rubble
of yesterday
I need to look at it now
For I have erred in believing
that I know all
Where in fact my mirror knows
That my pride broke
Before the fall
And then I find it
And I look into the mirror, again
My broken window to the world
And my long lost friend
But I don’t see my reflection there, anymore
It is as though, my angels have
all given up on me
And then,
out of the dark gilted frame,
my demons smile back
