Whatever title pleases thine ear
I own only fake palindromes
My mirror image is solely mine own:
Static and without the topography of my face,
Without the worried scalp and nervous pace,
But I cannot see what is shown.
When I look to the window I easily see
Past my reflection to the leaves shaking on trees.
My neck bundled in scarves, I am unresponsive.
Thought hidden by a face lonely pensive.
But in no way am I unattached or careless,
When my neck buried in arms and flesh.
I saw it coming before you even did,
But it was only natural allure to make you fit
Even though I have a second voice only stuttering with feeling.
I have no urge to attempt to hide my humiliation
But there is a difference between the knowing and familiarization
And to your ears my bland words are quietly stealing.
My mirror image is solely mine own:
Static and without the topography of my face,
Without the worried scalp and nervous pace,
But I cannot see what is shown.
When I look to the window I easily see
Past my reflection to the leaves shaking on trees.
My neck bundled in scarves, I am unresponsive.
Thought hidden by a face lonely pensive.
But in no way am I unattached or careless,
When my neck buried in arms and flesh.
I saw it coming before you even did,
But it was only natural allure to make you fit
Even though I have a second voice only stuttering with feeling.
I have no urge to attempt to hide my humiliation
But there is a difference between the knowing and familiarization
And to your ears my bland words are quietly stealing.