I look into my mirror.
Through swollen eyes,
I see an unfamiliar face.

Still the same,
But somehow different,
Somehow improved,
Yet simultaneously destroyed.

The cast is the figure of a bird
Flying into the future,
Flying into a new world of possibilities,
Yet flying into fog – unable to predict what he will see next.

I see bruises on my cheeks,
On my eyes.
It’s the new trend –
Black and blue eyeliner.
The grease in my hair is my stopwatch.

I can’t shower,
I can’t wet the cast.
I try to smile, but this bird won’t let me.

He tells me to stay put if I want to look pretty.
I say: But Mr. Cast, can’t you see me? It’s too late!
He stiffens and tells me,
One must never forget that beauty only comes
As a result of sacrifice, suffering, and scars.


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