Reflection

I once found my reflection in the library
It was resting there plain as can be
When I asked it what it was doing there, it said
“Waiting for you, as you can see.”

I went back again and again
To see what I could find
A beauty mark there, an imperfection there
Blooms and blemishes upon the mind.

My reflection was an exacting teacher
And it did not just stop with me
I found it with a mirror most days
Aping polite society.

One day, my protean reflection
Voiced an uncouth thought
I argued, I blustered, I threatened
To forget all that it had taught.

My resolution lasted for all of a day
Before I went back again,
Since my  reflection was many things,
But a prevaricator not one of them.

However, as I went up and down the shelves
Looking to make amends,
My reflection was nowhere to be found
As if it had never been.

I summoned the courage to ask someone
If my reflection was present
Only to be told it had been kicked out
For “lewd and inappropriate content.”

Since then, I have wandered up and down
Every bookshop, school, and personal collection
Only to be told the same, “I’m sorry,
But we don’t carry that particular selection.”

But don’t worry, I have found a new solution
I merely borrow the reflection of strangers.
Warped, distorted, blurry replacements,
They protect me from remembering and its many dangers.