You look in the mirror and scream,
You wonder how the glass doesn’t crack
Your face is covered with a thousand pimples
Rotten-tomato red and Jet black

“It’ll go away”, they say
“You’re at that phase
It’s that time of year, that time of day
It’s just temporary, it won’t stay”

You nod, agree, and rationalize it,
Trying to make yourself feel better
But then something occurs to you,
That makes you shiver in your sweater.

You’re just a phase,
A few years, and a few days,
After that you’re obliterated,
Faded away and lost in the haze.

And what gets you more,
Is that you never know,
You won't see death coming
Until it's your time to go.

And you look into the mirror again,
Your pimpled face looking a little more brave,
And you wonder, what’s a little ego-pain
When you might, at any point, just slip into your grave.


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