“Mirrors”

You can take yours home — 
and yours, too.
No offense,
but I don't like 
what I see at all.
You bend the wrong way;
your adulation,
adoration
skews everything — 
and by such a band of old,
an army of ugly
well-past skill —
I can't stand it!

Send in, please,
those convex faces;
laugh at my smallness
as you mock my gaze.
I demand broad frames
that diminish and belittle,
that show with a smirk
my world

and leave me wanting
more.