In the mirror, I reflect my vanity,
a play of lights dancing in my reality.
Captivated by my own radiance,
vanity that is my own brilliance.
Every corner of the glass, a silent praise,
my ego grows, of pride ablaze.
The lines of the reflection tell stories,
of my vanity, the queen of memories.
In the sparkle of my eyes, a universe confined,
my vanity rises, unbridled and unlined.
Draped in pride like a golden cloak,
my essence intoxicated by an enchanted stroke.
The sighs of the wind carry my name,
my vanity expands, like a wavering flame.
Every gesture, a tribute to my own image,
in this ego play, vanity is the sovereign sage.
But in the tangle of my self-admiration,
shadows emerge, a hint of contemplation.
Is vanity a delight or a prison cell?
In the mirror, I find the ambivalent spell.
Thus, in this two-hundred-word poem,
my vanity is revealed, amidst lights and gloom.
A spoken portrait of an unbridled ego,
in the mirror of vanity, eternally enclosed.