Mirrors are everywhere and yet no one is looking around,
Walking and talking reflections of my being,
Only my noise resonates from every sound,
My skin, a commune of strokes and pushes,
Sometimes gentle, but mostly harsh,
These mirrors are not for looks but for bruises,
To learn of gentleness in a world so rough,
I am in a constant state of wonder,
For each action and word spoken,
For every thought that runs under,
For every promise that I have broken,
Every disgust and loathing,
Every moment of being afraid,
All the differences that are gripping,
Of which fear is bait,
These mirrors I see and feel,
Are ones that sees itself,
For every thought and intention made real,
Is a source from inside the self.

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