Each day I stand before the glass,
A meeting where truths unmask.
She waits for me with patient eyes,
Reflecting what I oft despise.
She shows me depths I never knew,
What I’ve ignored, what I misconstrue.
Her silent empathy, her tender care,
She cries for me, always there.
“It is okay, mate,” her whispers say,
Guiding me through shadows grey.
At times I hate,...
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