Mirror, Mirror (On My Soul)

Mirror, Mirror (On My Soul)
A poem by the Dandy Saint

Mirror, mirror, on my soul,
you know the truths I never told.
Not the painted face, the powdered guise—
but the trembling light behind my eyes.

You’ve seen me cracked, you’ve seen me bare,
with mascara tears and tangled hair;
you’ve watched me hide, then watched me bloom,
turn pain to art, and scars to plume.

I do not pray to be adored,
nor polished clean, nor once restored—
I pray to stand within my skin,
to meet myself and call it kin.

For every flaw’s a sacred scar,
each wound a whispered avatar;
I kiss the mirror, not with shame,
but love that dares to speak my name.

So when I rise in silk and hue,
and strut beneath the morning’s view,
remember this, my shining role—
the truest beauty saves the soul.

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