Looking in the mirror, I see no pane of glass,
But silver fragments reflected in the monochromic past.
My reflection I do not see; but a myriad of strangers reflected back to me,
Their voices full of tension and stress, some of joy, some saying ‘be free’.
My self wishes be reflected, with make-up, at least, to strip away,
To let stress, tiredness and dysphoria, fly afar and run astray,
So that, like a flag that all can see,
The mirror can reflect myself back to me.
By Who not What member
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