The Mirror
What do I see in this mirror?
In this mirror all cracked and dingy?
I see a memory, a tiny memory,
and what I saw so many years before.
I see myself, standing in front of the silvery glass,
lacking in all the cracks that now grace its once-fine frame.
I was crying, not with tears, not even with my heart,
but with my mind.
I felt a shallow anguish, one that felt as though it would destroy me,
but it didn't. It couldn't.
I did not like that wispy girl,
with hair like strings surrounding her face,
or her simple, unornamented attire.
I refused to look beyond the mirror,
that wretchedly smooth mirror,
and stare into her eyes.
They cried out to that miserable little girl,
begging her to explain what she was doing,
why she picked up the old book, the one she never read
and destroyed that marvelous reflection.
Why was she not looking beyond the shell,
and seeing what I now see lay hidden within?
And now I know the answer, but it is simply no answer at all.
I smile happily at that ancient looking glass,
loving the girl I see beyond the shell,
and the eyes that had experienced all.
Anyway, to explain the third line of the first stanza(and the fourth and fifth lines of the third stanza): Sometimes repetitiveness can create a pretty awesome affect, its not always bad. Though I do realize what you guys were getting at when you complained about the repetitiveness of me saying "mirror" like two million times... (I changed it). Thanks!