Look at it like lines,
Nothing else attached.
It’s not a nose,
Not a zit,
Or scar.
Just flecks, spots -
Lines, lines, lines.
My eraser works like
Madness on the paper;
That’s not my eye,
Or my smile,
Or chin.
Too pretty to be me -
Lies, lies, lies.
But the mirror won’t deny
What I am,
To the world at least -
Not at all pretty,
Or happy,
Or free.
The mistakes are
Mine, mine, mine.
Look at it like lines,
Madness on the paper,
To the world at least -
It’s in there somewhere,
That glint,
And shine.
Moldable clay -
Lines, lies, mine.
