Objects in Mirrors are Closer than they Appear

Cold and smooth is the surface of glass, but it doesn't have a color,
and it hides the naked truth unlike any other

You look so innocent in the truth, but it really, truly lies,
'cause the person that it sees right now hardly can comply

The glowing glass holds the image of you, but all it sees is perfection
you like to tease it is the truth, though it is only your reflection

Blinded by beauty is the mirror to only notice features
it compares you to the rest, lower than a creature

It can't see your pain inside, or understand your feelings
and you know as you move on, it's yourself you're slowly killing

You let out a cry of pain as you pound your fist into the glass
then you fall onto your knees and hope those feelings overpass

The mirror breaks and is left confused as it lays there shattered
blood drips down your raw hand and your breathing slowly patterns

Now the mirror is just like you, it's broken and a mess
and you can't repair the pieces which are lower than they are less

Though as you stare into the shards the truth is what you see
pieces shattered of yourself, just ruined quality

The mirror was a sneaky tool to prevaricate the void
something that you can't escape and one you can't avoid

Swindler, spurious, and vague, it rests in stagnation
and as you slowly walk away you pretend it was your imagination