Much of the time, this is how I look
This is not a moment caught in time
Not my react, told it’s my turn to cook
This is me, appearance far from fine
Illness creates this expression face
With eyes open, gapes large my mouth too
Mouth shuts, normal, nothing out of place
When I blink or sleep all the night through
Much of the time, you can imagine
Outside, I wear a blue linen scarf
Dark shades hide, my bloodshot eyes bulging
If people could see, I know they’d laugh
Worked out I can speak with eyelids closed
My muffled voice projects through fabric
I affirm and answer all queries posed
Avoiding appearing too eccentric
While engaged, I sense uncertainty
They know there’s something just not quite right
If scarf slipped, revealed monstrosity
Consider the shock or a young child’s fright
All this discomfort I must accept
I must be God’s worst ever reject
Brinkinfield 