In shadows cast by polished glass,
In love with self, does time elapse,
The Narcissist blooms in mirrored pools,
An echo rings, her own applause.
A dance of words, a grand charade,
In shining light and darkened shade.
The world’s a stage, no room for others,
In love with self, she smothers.
No truth is seen beyond reflection,
A symphony of me, myself, and I,
To the world, she waves a blithe goodbye.
Golden sunsets, silver moons,
The song of life plays to its tunes.
The mirror’s charm, a siren’s song,
It’s here that she belongs.
From solipsistic twilight gleam,
To ego’s endless, flowing stream.
In every pulse, in every vein,
Is a love that echoes, yet in vain.
Oceans deep, the gaze does plunge,
In depths of self, it does indulge.
A lonesomely bright and glistening star,
Lost in her light, from others afar.
Yet in the heart of mirrored night,
There may yet pierce a truthful light.
If only the gaze could turn to see,
The shared humanity, the collective we.
But in her grandeur she blooms,
Deaf to all but her own tunes.
In the mirror, she finds delight,
Her world confined to reflective light.
So beware the lure of the mirrored abyss,
The hollow allure of narcissistic bliss.
For life is a melody best sung together,
In a chorus of hearts, light as a feather.