The Second Time I See You

Mirror mirror on the wall,
whenever I gaze into you; why do I feel so insecure?
The first time I see you,
I see me,
the whole me
and the second time I see you,
why do you show me the imperfect me?
I look in you,
and see the bags under my eyes,
the spots on my forehead
and my lips so dry.
The concoction of panic, anxiety overcomes,
I don’t look pretty, my thoughts say in unison.
My therapist tells me to not to meet you for a while,
but if the desire provokes,
I may have a look at you.
But, trust me!
I don’t want to see you again, to see the ugly me again.



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