The Face in the Mirror

Displaying deceving bliss where only gloom exists,
Whose eyes are these?
Surely not mine.

Of happy remiss, yet despair persists,
Whose smile is this?
A veiled design.

Fears that seem irrational,
Poetry that is unintentional,
No purpose discernible,
Nor answers sensible,
No clue, nor guide,
No beliefs, nor pride,
Neither here nor there,
Neither just, nor unfair,
Nothing accomplished but time,
And words that fucking rhyme.

This is me
Can't you see?

Disjointed paradigms and twisted moods,
Somehow my expression eludes,
When I look into the mirror,
Whose face is this -
Of uncluttered bliss?
I often ask...

Surely not mine.
It is only a mask.

Can't you see,
It isn't me.