A silver mirror kept in my room,
Transforms everything in its view,
With angles and shadows,
That change the perspective,
Of the viewer and the viewed.

Honesty comes back to the viewer,
Yet that too is skewed,
As the perspective of the viewer,
Is not the same as the viewed,
Nor is the interpretation of the image.

Its mocking or flattering view,
Depends on the time of day,
State of mind of the viewer,
And the influences of the outside,
Which the mirror cannot even see.

The truest reflection in the portal,
Still cannot define truly what it sees,
As the viewer is the viewed,
But the view is taintedly incomplete,
Shallow even to the viewer.
...