melissaahowells
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a mirror
I've heard is no woman's friend especially not in a small room where there's much room for comparing comparing is a poor habit one that one ought never begin and soon becomes apparent is a necessity to break the whole world compares and often come up wanting to be more men mostly do this comparing is the progenitor of all competition it creates pandemics of ugliness: envy, bullying, disputes, wars women reluctantly enter this parlor game and when they do fully aware of its complications and pitfalls its a game of cards where guile and deceit reign in torrents and errors some seem to be winners while others don't quite have the cards some never show their hand keeping them hidden there's no need to bluff I'm who I am and mirrors reflect what the seer sees there's always some distortion vanity, regret, inner love, outer vanity the mirror isn't a woman's friend especially when she leaves it up to others and plays at the parlor game of comparison these are not games about who we are its better to just breathe and let live breaking the mirror might bring you luck, unending bliss (in truth Alice was no great friend of mirrors she was, in fact disposed only to make good use of them... dear Alice, clever girl...) legal copyright for this work/poem June 19 2017 eleven fifty-six am PST and also for this writer Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World Vote for this poem |
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