'Five Minutes In The Mirror' by Ravyn LaRue

I don't know what shape my body is.
It's fat, of course, but seemingly ever-changing.
Sometimes my legs look long.
Sometimes my legs look short.
Sometimes I look paler than paper.
And sometimes, like today, I look sunburned and ruddy.
But whatever my body is, I like it.

I don't know what color my eyes are.
They are seemingly ever-changing.
Sometimes they're blue.
Sometimes they're grey.
Sometimes they're green.
And sometimes, like today, I can't tell at all, and focus instead on my dilating pupils.
But whatever my eyes are, I like them.

I don't know if I can dance.
My ability seems ever-changing.
Sometimes I can tap.
Sometimes I embrace catharsis.
Sometimes I can barely walk on solid ground.
And sometimes, like today, I hula for three minutes straight, just to see if I can.
But whatever my dancing is, I like it.

I don't know who I am.
I always seem ever-changing.
Sometimes I am shy.
Sometimes I am out-going.
Sometimes I am art incarnate.
And sometimes, like today, I am what I am.
But whoever I am, I like it.