Or Are These

When I look in the mirror, what do I see?
A mere figure filled with scars, that talks to me!!
Or is it just a pretty full moon,
Blinded by the glory so you don't see the scars too soon.
Or are these trails to old forgotten histories,
Learnings for the future holding the mysteries.
Oh! these eyes, a window for the inner being,
To reflect emotions they are forever keen,
These red vessels, as bright as lightning strikes,
These windows a leaking bowl whenever I cry.
Or are these clouds holding the weight,
Pouring whenever it's too much to take.
These eyelashes blowing off with the saddened air,
Or leaves of weeping willow for when they choose to dance or share.
To own a tongue so sharp,
On serene waves it's known to light a spark.
Cheeks when I smile,
A beauty frozen in time.
Or are these mountains calling??
Sinking whenever the snow starts falling.
Or are these all delusions cause at the end, reflection is full of scars,
Or a real pretty illusion for the dreamy nights when the skies are full of stars.