I am your mirror AKA Day Twenty-Eight

Reflection is imperfect
It shows more than we
Reveal
Not simply a reverse
It captures what we
Conceal and
Throws it back at us when
We are not prepared to
Receive the
Blow. All the
Lies we tell ourselves in a
Straightforward, head-on fashion
Dissolves at the Edges
Truth mocks and asks
Questions from the periphery
Who are we?
What do we really look like? Is this
Glass painted in silver any
Less tricksy than the
Rippling surface of a pond or the
Corneas of our lovers? What do
We fear will stare back from
Behind the polished surface?
Who lurks inside waiting to get free?