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My angled brow

I’m Scanning eyes for movement

My hollow cheek

I Walk the rows of mirrors

My pretend sneer

Too set to be smoothed over

My jet black hair

And soul in old grey photos

Despite My scars

Cannot conceal

This stoic front

It’s how I keep from screaming

This smiling scar

Too deep, too wide, too fucked up

This pursed lip

Ugly as fuck, the blindness

This downturned eye

I fix my gaze, it can't be fixed

It can't be fixed

Hating myself

I’ve done some good

I've worn this look

I sculpt and shape

Steady my hand

I shrink with shame

I stand in the well

I can’t contain

Despite my scars