At a Mirror
A poem on agony and ecstasy
First time by a mirror.
The ecstasy of knowing who the person looking back at me truly is.
The agony of knowing she still has to hide.
When do I get to shatter this box of mirrors? When does the looking glass dissolve into oblivion?
The woman trapped behind the glass aches to know.
This story is a response to Prism & Pen’s writing prompt The Agony and the Ecstasy.