One morning I wake and see a boy I hate
His sad eyes reflecting back at me in the mirror
A dull, dim witted gaze scanning for direction
Under differ circumstances
If moments were replayable
Each with different chances
Someoutcomes sevens
Others snake eyes
I'd gut this kid in the mirror
For neck to thighs
Bath I his ashes, fresh from the kindling
Grind them
Make a pigment
Symbolic sentament
From this grey I'd color a mask
Wear it night, dance on the boys grave
Wake to find a new man in the mirror
This one handsome and strong
The curves of his chin witty and mysterious
His voice soothing and deep
I'd love his man till the end of my day
Bury myself in his grave, just an inch to the left.
I'd rise from the grave late that night
Walk home, go to bed delirious
Wake up the next morning and see the person I am
My reflection as mystery.
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