Possession

Tell me all the petty revelations that you exalt to own,
      Poor broken mirror, so proud to catch a fragment of my form,
Portray the smile on my mouth, but miss the sneer within my eyes,
      And wonder when I throw you out if all you knew were lies.

Your pieces never could construct my outer whole,
      How then could you presume to know the secrets of my soul,
If all you were before your fall was a common ornament,
      And I a god, and the likeness of god, and out of heaven sent?

So dry your shards you silvery wreck,
      And let me hold you close.
Possession is a better truth
      Than any empty boast.