Man in the mirror

As he contemplates this reflection that is looking back in mystery
Where on earth did those wrinkles come from ?
he does not feel that old you see 

It is an impossible mission to hide the cracks of time
A laborious lifetime of labours
Age advances are indeed an uphill climb

So from a plastic pallette
he applys his masquerade
Meticulously masking any marks of imperfections
Betwixt that morning ritual crusade

Eventually, tho alas never satisfied
he places the ‘Magic makeup’ on the habitual shelf
One can only do the best one can
to appease one’s inner emotional self

A recent sacramental routine
Every morning is precisely the very same
A fatigued face curiously glares back with dismay
Thinking ‘Where an earth has my youth gone to ? Oh what a shame”