It isn't, it couldn't be, that is me?
No, I refuse to accept that
it is an illusion.
Mud spattered image, a heap on the floor,
the last groveling bit of humanity
It makes me angry to see that heap,
I would pile it up and kick it,
grab a hold of the mass of ugliness and throw.
I would look in the mirror
to see something else.
A shining bit of polished person,
a bit of worthy matter
to walk around in.