It’s not surprising
I look like a monochrome:
The only colors are pink laces on my shoes
And purple bags beneath my eyes.
Like an old-fashioned photograph—
“Subject stares beyond the camera.
Subject seems so sad.”
The people in the pictures never smile.
Their faces stay stony and unreadable
Even though they see everything,
Forever watching, like me.
Smiling is hard when it looks so wrong.
My best face is my frown.
So I wear my frown as I walk away
And the monochrome behind the mirror disappears.