@ bittersweet diary

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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