Mirrors Underneath
Anonymity has giant leaps
that makes one vanished
and would not be tracked,
like soap bubbles busted.
It's a cushion for a repose,
when one's name becomes
too clutched to a shy neck,
booked for public's fancy.
And what fame embellishes
something must reciprocate;
that each concrete passage
has mirrors below the skirt.
poem by Melanie Agua
Added by Poetry Lover
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