Each of you stands around
holding the silvered surfaces of mirrors-
the most foolish invention of all times
limiting our possibility to be, to think, to dream -
by an imperfect visual defining.

As I look into them
to find a face I may like,
each tells a different story
but they all lead to one -
something I know,
only I.

Every story is important,
but you only pick up one
which best defines your love,
indifference or hate
and, show it to the world,

Saying, that is all there was to her.