A poem expressing an old man disgust over a reflection on an old mirror.
Hiding beyond a silhouette
There’s an old man, who steal a look
For one reason, I knew we‘ve met
I marveled… is he a crook?
Armies of silvery hair glistening his bald head
Gosh! He looks an awful mess
Devoid of grandeur, but instead
A tattered man, I guess.
Sizing him up, I’m damn sure I look smarter
Than this worn out man, I am saying
Nonetheless, if it’s me glancing out there
You’re a rubbish, old mirror, … for you are lying.
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