My Mirror Lies To Me

My mirror lies to me.

Honest.

Instead of showing me my face, it shows me a

Forest.

Full of hyacinths, daisies and daffodils, a veritable Garden of Eden

So why aren’t they all there when I need them

Roaming the streets of London

Westminster, Angel and EC1,

The ears stand down to Gould, Ravel and Lennon

The eyes have it: as they pass there is a moment

Of the everlasting approach, as they encroach

On my person.

Look down, look left, look right

But even using all of my might

The image I remembered

So full of smoulding embers

Is long gone: every one a faceless judge

Until my brain turns to sludge

And my fears and worries do their star turn

In rubies, emeralds and Armani

My own creation, my own evil army

Hey remember, remember when you cried in the street?

When you tripped over your own feet?

Once again, my brain, now sleet, turns against me.

Dances, pirouettes around me, wearing my face of Eve,

Wiping my eyes now on my sleeve,

Poking, prodding: the judges have long since disappeared

And yet they were just the appetizer, what I honestly feared

Takes it’s bejeweled bow, shimmies, winks at me

Honestly and truthfully, my mirror lies to me.

By Jessica Bailey

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