MirroRRorriM

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A Pane of Glass Is As Bland As A Blank Page.

Solidity, Wholeness, Smothness, Are False Perfections

Boring And Unattainable.

I Am Rough Around The Edges, Fractured, And Cracked.

I Am Not Whole And The Reflection Is Twisted And Broken.

None Of These Are Flaws.

To The Contrary They Are What Make Me Unique

What Make Me Flawless.

Society's Image Of A "Perfect" Mirror

Can So Easily Be Broken.

An Obvious Flaw.

I However Am Already Broken

And If I Were To Break Again It Would Only Be An Improvement.

To Be Perfect Is To Be Capable Of Becoming Flawed.

To Be Imperfect Is To Be Flawless .

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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