The knower of secrets,
and the teller of truths.
The only one that's not afraid to tell me what I don't want to know.
My reflection.

The first image isn't whole.
It's the fragments of a broken bottle,
shards of shattered glass.

Pictures here,
A memory there.
Scars of incidents long forgotten.

A picture like a ripple in a pond,
Changing, growing, soft and unnerved.

The other image is an artist's canvas.
A reflection of dreams.
An account of creativity.

The outline I see is
the epitome of imagination.
The essence of imperfection,
and a firm believer
in accomplishing the impossible.

The reflection in the mirror is
is fearless,
flawed,
and full of hope.
Me.