As I am writing this,
The bags usually under my eyes,
Do not seem to exist,
My face is fuller than it used to be,
'Cause I've been on the road,
With less time to dedicate to myself,
As my just coffee breakfast also shows,
Despite it all my eyes are still the same,
Though they've seen different things,
A curious trait unique to just them,
Untouched by life's happ'nings.
Then there's the brain,
It gets all the eyes see,
If I could see it in the mirror too,
Would I be surprised by much distorting?
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