I looked into the mirror perhaps, first time, It was full of flaws and cracks, that time, I put my heel when its veil was on And now, here come buried things, this time.
Dazzling light is completely devastated, And the rings of bells have sharpened, Perhaps, red roses have been blackened While its strong chains have fastened.
It is yawping me for its repair, By castigating me every time, leering, I am prevented from collecting roses As the gleaming from pieces, sharpening.
I am feeling like a prisoner, Time to throw out this miller, Again, its time for a new layer on you, As you are again a broken mirror.
This post first appeared on The Kashmir Pulse
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