What do I see in the mirror,
The image is hazy, yet still clear,
The lines are dancing.
Curious eyes,
Nose sharp,
And a smile that could convince Satan to sell his soul.
Sadly,
I realize the face is mine,
A relic for the charming man I once was.
YOU ARE READING
Uncertain Poetry
PoetryPoetry? That just isn't too sure of itself. Deep and shallow, short and long. It's quite curious and is an adventure of the mind.
