Nonsense #47

I look into my reflection,
An exact copy of me
And yet her eyes are dull
And plain, her face a mask
Of contentment when all she
Feels is pain, huge
Black bags beneath her eye
Sockets, cheeks once so full
Now starting to cave in.
The eyelashes are short,
The eyebrows full, not
How she should look at all!
A thin line for a mouth,
No more smiles or a dimple
Of happiness, just a straight face.
But she’s tired, longing for more
Than she can ever have.

I turn away and draw on a smile.
For it is better to be lost
And alone than surrounded by a swarm.


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