Mirrors reflect, she reflects, is her reality and sometimes,
as she tucks a stray coloured curl behind her ears,
as she passes her image in the shop window, unreality.
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Age constructs a facade that lies to itself and others. However, the body beneath has the truth. A well constructed and executed poem.
Thank you for commenting on my A Million Sorrows. Much appreciated.
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Age constructs a facade that lies to itself and others. However, the body beneath has the truth. A well constructed and executed poem. Thank you for commenting on my A Million Sorrows. Much appreciated.