Mirror , mirror on the wall ,
Depicting me as round and tall ,
But when I take a step and spin ,
I become quite short and thin .
Squiggle my profile, flatten my pride, No matter my movement it won’t subside .
A plié here , a dip, and a shuffle ,
Won’t save me from this circus kerfuffle.
Down I fall on the checkered floor , And to you, I still implore ;
Through lover eyes, so you perceive me? seeing through this carnival debris ?
For this skin that I call home ,
And these feet on which I roam ,
And these eyes so muddled by tear ,
Aren’t what should be held dear .
For a Rose, by any name ,
Would remind quiet near the same .
But, I know , I am no flower .
I grow weaker by the hours ,
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