Mirrors.

I hesitate looking into mirrors,

and can't peek into my eyes,
When I do, I face appalling terror,
That prevails and engulfs,
My shattered heart and soul,
and knits a picture of,
A defeated person,
Exhausted, weary and crippled,
By standing tall for decades,
Eyes dark purplish and black,

For not sleeping for days
and standing up for long,

The person in the mirror
wants to stumble and slump,
The insides have already collapsed,
The outsides want to plunge,
Into an ocean of tears,

The mirror forecasts realities,
like a fortune teller,
And depicts a picture of me,
which is hard to accept,
I am not a star,
I want a shooting star,
I'm not a hawk,
I yearn to be one,
I'm not a beautiful rose,
I'm an ugly dandelion,
That dances around to spread smiles,
The person in the mirror is me,
With all the facades off,
With no glitters and cloaks.