Hey you! Decrepid fellow in the glass,
You pallid apparition I disowned.
If you were me, I would not be aghast
and cry aloud in horrifying moan
whenever you appear and leer at me
in dismal mornings when I stand and look
with apprehension at what I might see
and ponder what was once and aging took.
Hey you in dismal mirror staring back,
you vile imposter claiming to be me,
who grimaces in pain as if attacked
at slightest flutter of a winter breeze
or cringes at the flight of soaring high
above the mountain passes far below.
You are not me!
I am the youth who challenges the sky
Defies the mauling years with face aglow!