After waking up
She does her morning stretch
To awake her frail soul
From it’s cavernous slumber
Puts on her spotless slippers
Walks to her impassive closet
Carefully chooses what unexpressive face
to sport
Makes a fitting choice
After a couple of tries
Feeling
Different for changing faces
So habitually
But the same
For being suitable for her crowds
I can only witness
What the eye doesn’t
as my mentality knows it
All too well
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem