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It is seeing and acknowledging the person before you... the person right in front of your eyes... the one who declares themselves as you... can you truly love the person who you are.

For the first time in my life

I faced the mirror,

The thought of seeing me

Made me quiver.

My reflection just stood there:

A perfect imperfection of myself.

I reached out my hand

To touch the reflection-

But it didn't do the same,

I laid my hand on my heart,

It neither budged nor moved.

I wasn't the person in the mirror

And neither was it me.

My fists strike at my reflection.

Piece by piece,

Shards of fine glass

Break from the frame.

Folds, creases, and tears cover the mirror.

But my reflection just stood there, exactly the same

Unamused, and unaware that it's being abused.

When all was done

I looked back into the mirror

It was still there, a distorted form of me.

Closing my eyes I stop and breathe

But when I looked back, I came to realize.

I wasn't staring back at the mirror

The mirror was staring back at me.

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