Blow away, blow away.
Birds that bother me.
Finding a new face.
In my mirror, very strange,
very much, the stranger.
I see what is, and
in the reflection's eyes.
A backwards, what could be.
Breath deep,
in the what coulds.
Brisk in talk, and
in stuttering walk.
Find me, find me.
I have yet to see,
the real me,
reflected
back at me.
