Surrounded by mirrors
On the streets
No passersby
Gazes at the looking-glass
Even the beautiful
Won’t gaze at the glass
Under the rays of the harsh day light
To avoid the truth
The frown that still lingers
A wrinkle that is permanent
The furrowed brow of anger and resentment
The reflection of a tear in the eye
But the glass doesn’t see the soul
Only the surface
It’s not a true reflection.