I look in the mirror,
Each morning I see,
I wonder how it’s possible
A different face staring back at me.

Isn’t it funny how
With each day you change.
One day feeling handsome,
The next you’re deranged.

Have my cheeks swollen?
Are my eyes not as bright?
Or is my face more gaunt?
These changes aren’t right!

Isn’t it funny how
appearance mimics the mind.
One day delightful,
The following confined.

A matter of the subconcious
Are one’s waking thoughts.
Sometimes feelings of happiness,
Others feeling like nought.

All of these variations
Are beyond my capacity.
For now all I can hope
Is that I wake with audacity.


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