In my mind I am a dancer,
Gracefully pirouetting.
My lithe body painting a picture on the floor,
Slender arm extended.
So enchanting that gravity gives up it’s hold on me,
and my leap sails like a ship among the stars,
and I might never fall.
In the mirror I am a fishwife,
Dully hawking.
My thick body smelling of the rotten wares,
Meaty arm extended.
So proletarian that dreams deny me,
and my eyes deaden like a whore’s among johns,
and I might never look up.
In my mind I am champion,
Boldly crusading.
My strong body leaving a sea of blood upon the field,
Sword arm extended.
So formidable that fate fears to tempt me,
and my cuts fall like the wrath of God upon the sinners,
and I might never be vanquished.
In the mirror I am a cripple,
Feebly waiting.
My broken body seeming more useless everyday,
Emaciated arm extended.
So inadequate that movement massacres me,
and my lungs constrict like a boa around its meal
and I might never survive.