Past the mirror, quick.
Head down. Eyes down.
You already know you look sick.
You watch where their eyes double back
and it sticks in your mind.
Still behind,
when you find yourself back where you started.

Watch how they twist up their face.
You don't know what it means.
You assume it's distaste.
How can you, and yourself, coexist?
What a shame,
and a mess, and a waste.
Empty handed,
and now empty hearted.