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Every morning, It comes down from the wall looks at my face Combing the fingers through the hair. Showing the teeth and lips. That time, Realizing I’m a mirror Feels like all streets, vehicles, shops, and trees looking at me. My emotion is not mine It is yours, My Eyes are not mine They may be gazes of stars, These hands are not mine They may be branches of trees. Yes, I am a mirror Bearing the reflections of others.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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