The mirror

Paint me a picture...

May it reflect a beauty beyond all reason,

Give it a face that would thrill,

And the eyes that can kill...

The body of a goddess, shaped thus to inspire sin,

The voice of an angel, such a shame that pictures cannot speak…

The smile that would comfort the devil,

And the touch that could corrupt the saints, and deliver them to hell…

All of these and even more,

All are made to hide the rotting core…

Unspeakable beauty given to hide,

The absence of a perfect soul…

The picture shall not lie,

The picture would not speak,

The picture is always there,

Hanging and smiling on the same wall.

Unlike beauty, the picture cannot wither and fade

Priceless reminder of another time, another place

The picture contains nothing but the face,

A moment frozen in time, as if a moment could last forever

Abandoned in one’s own mortality,

We turn our eyes towards the past,

Back to the age when all had purpose,

Before the time when beauty lost it’s meaning…

Wake up! Sometimes our dreams are nothing but nightmares… The picture is your mirror.