My mirror image becomes clouded with precognition
And fogged by my breath upon its glassy pane,
Staring back at me with glazed eyes and a blank face
With pink full cheeks chiselled right down
To help bear the weight of a camel's hump on my back.
Two pairs of eyes meet, so different and yet the same,
And a world of stories pass beneath, spreading
And intertwining with one another like a spider's web.
You know it's bad luck to break a web…or a mirror's glass,
That which showed my face painted by an artist's brush.
I look away and the glistening quickly fades, taking its illusion
With no-one to look upon its lies…because it was all lies.
My face was not so beautiful, so blank, without flaws,
Nor without life; a perfectly carved doll in a doll's house,
Chained by words, silence and a smile on the mirror's back.