She stares into the mirror coldly

Why does it reflect her

So cruely, so black

She reaches out to her reflection

Only to find that she cannot

Touch it, no feeling

Wants to cry but tears don't come

Her porcelain face bone dry, shatters

She aches, gives up

Isn't it just a tragic ending

To this little tale I tell

So sad, so unreal

For you see she is dead

And I, well I am the reflection

Author's Notes/Comments: 

well i like this a lot, i would say it's very...dark. but all the same i think it has a lot of meaning behind it

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Sandeep  N S's picture

Its a good poem,makes me remember one of the poems by silvia Plath named...'Mirror'.

Truely the mirror is so ,it has no pre-conceptions,It just shows as it is.But the mirror which we look,this worldly mirror formed of crystals,has its limitations.It can only show a phase of time in our lives.Never a true image of ourself,which comprises a whole lot more.
Hence i think we ourselves are ourbest mirrors.We have to look in ourselves to know,What our miiror on the front..our friend,Said is right or wrong.

Good work,keep it up.