The Mirror
I look now at myself in the mirror
And a small pathetic creature looks back
It chants to me the qualities I lack 'Look at you,' it shouts, 'you're not a winner
You won't reach your goals with that lack of charm
And the way you shy away from new people
Situations and conflict cause alarm
So here you stand, balanced on the steeple
That represents your life in the present
A gentle wind sways you this way and that
And gravity acting, pressing you flat
Pushing out the things that make your life pleasant'
That's it; I stand up and swing my arm back
Release it and watch the mirror turn black.
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