by Michele Connell

Created on: March 18, 2009   Last Updated: November 27, 2009

I see a woman, staring at her reflection,

A perfect smile in its place for all to see.

She looks so strong;

Put together - completely all in place -

Not a doubt on her face for the world to see.

She doesn't want anyone to know that she's been weak.

She holds her emotions so secure -

Closed off - they're out of reach.

Yet she stands so tall;

Never moved nor shaken shall she be,

At least that's what she wants you to believe - Untouched - unhurt.

But underneath - there's bruises, scarring, and pain;

Buried deep beneath the layers of practiced strength.

So she hides behind the mask,

A woman in complete control.

She could move among the masses, and no one would ever know...

That an appearance isn't everything, just a simple core of flesh and bones;

Hiding deep within those confines lives a broken - endlessly aching - soul.

Still, she listens as the mirror speaks with platitudes and lies

To woo her into believing that her image is her life.

"What people see is important," the image coos on and on.

"You and me - we're connected; with glass and mirrors we take a form."

You could argue or deny her, but she speaks upon what she sees.

Her taunting sounds outrageous, but enough to make you believe.

From the cool, slick reflection looking back into your eyes,

Comes the tomb of deception speaking surface - evasive - lies.

While the inner man goes unnoticed, often untended - left the same,

A choked-out garden hidden within an outter frame;

Another Pharisee cloaked in madness - clean on the outside

A woman with deep sadness - lost among the reflection of her life.

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