Sometimes I sit,
Staring at my reflection,
Noticing every minor,
Flaw and imperfection.

A mirror is an opposite,
A flip of reality,
A twisted, woven lie,
Of our actuality.

What we do not see,
On a mirror's face,
Is the flipped perfection,
We yearn to showcase.

We only notice what is wrong,
Never what seems right,
And that is a mirror's fault,
Altering our sight.

But it is just a mirror,
A mere, flipped reflection,
But everyone is filled,
With inner human perfection.