Look in the mirror

I've done it before

Day in and day out I'll see

The changes in my face as they shift in the night

They lose their form or gain a new one

Until I piece myself back together again.

Am I really piecing myself back together again?

Or am I hiding what the elves in the night are creating.

What am I but a biological creation.

Made to live by change.

The change of the wind,

The change of a home,

Of a sky,

Of an Earth constantly destroyed and rebuilt.

My face is like the terrain,

Sometimes dry,

Sometimes wet and oily,

Sometimes nothing to look at,

And sometimes a beauty in the right light,

Which is all I can ask for really.

 

But I remove the make-up I plastered on

And walk out my bedroom door

To face the other faces

that were flooded once more.