My weary mirror has no fun of late
It's stare is empty, cautious and as dim
As happiness when met in deathly date
What now is me appears into a him,
And he could sadden sad into a smile
In grin of measure wide that his decrease
Within a crept behind the eye of bile
In salt and wound that pains the skin to crease
For each a sullen ridge re-tells a sorrow made
By form as poor as deeply dug it's way
That pleasance birthed with vibrance were to fade
So have us left depressed into decay

What sulken form reflects mine eyes to see
The bitter sight and breathless life of me.