Mirror

My mirror is cracked, 

Lines radiating across my reflection;

My mirror casts shadows of doubt, 

Darkening any hope of near perfection. 

My mirror grows smaller, 

Becoming harder to see;

My mirror is being covered in frost,

Distorting any reflection of me. 

I try to ignore this mirror of mine, 

To force myself to divert my gaze;

I try to rid it from my mind, 

But it clings tight and there it stays. 

I used to talk about this mirror of mine, 

Trying to restore it to its former self;

For a while now my mirrors' just got worse,

And with it the deterioration of my health. 

May your mirror always stand tall 

And give a crystal clear reflection; 

May your mirror boost you up,

For self-doubt is an horrendous infection. 

Reviews

[Gee]

Hi, I agree with the review below. Sometimes we are so restricted by the rhyming of the poem that all else goes out of the window. It might be worth your while trying to write shorter poems with an even syllable count to each line. I myself write rhyming verse and try, as much as possible, to stick to this. Give it a go and see what you think. Good luck

[R.M.C]

Thank you for your review; all criticism is appreciated. I sometimes write to syllable count but sometimes I just write what comes into my head and don't alter it. I like to have a wide variety of types to see what I like and what works well...

[Gee]

My pleasure...

[streetrose]

This piece has the potential to be wonderful, but is in need of revisions. The flow is virtually nonexistent, the wording is awkward , you fall into the traps of paralipsis, and you occasionally use the wrong verb. Thank you for sharing.

[R.M.C]

Thank you for reading it and, most of all, for your criticism.