Once every day, I study a mirror.
I see tired eyes that don't meet other eyes.
I see a mouth that speaks quick, with a slur.
I see ears that are used to hearing lies.
I see an arm of self-inflicted scars.
I see unkempt hair like a shaggy mane.
I see a face that looks not at the stars.
I see hands clenched hard, as if in sharp pain.
Every day I look, I see what I see,
and I think, "why yes, that certainly is me!"
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC
Once every day, I study a mirror.
I see tired eyes that don't meet other eyes.
I see a mouth that speaks quick, with a slur.
I see ears that are used to hearing lies.
I see an arm of self-inflicted scars.
I see unkempt hair like a shaggy mane.
I see a face that looks not at the stars.
I see hands clenched hard, as if in sharp pain.
Every day I look, I see what I see,
and I think, "why yes, that certainly is me!"
Request permission to use this poem