my mirror has two faces
and is fickle with it's point of view
most days it tells me i'm pretty
pretty enough, not prettiest of all
a tempered opinion from tempered glass
keeps ego and vanity in check
uplifts without raising above

nights when i can't sleep
because mine is the only face reflecting back on me
and loneliness feels terminal
the next day it points out only flaws
lack of sleep lends to it's darker view
and paints shadows of self-doubt beneath my eyes
the brush strokes of a dismal point of view

the sun is more determined to shine on me
than i am stubborn enough to resist it
and the sound of a child laughing
or the sight of lovers embracing
would stir around me winds of fresh hope
delivering the scent of blossoming dignity
and parting the clouds of my misery
i turn to face the world again
with the prettier reflection of me

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