Self portraits

All my self portraits are ugly,

My performance betrays

That pretty feels untrue.

I am no prideful Narcissus,

Perceiving a lover in that pool,

Perfection in reflection,

Drowning in depths of affection.

No I am not Pygmalion,

Creating a corpus

Better, more beautiful than reality,

Praying life where no life prior.

I am crueler,

Paving dark rings like roads

Into crumbling clay,

Developing despair,

Pillaging eyes of empathy,

Painting crooked what could be straight,

Making plump what I wish was thin.

Part of me always wishes,

Waits,

For those who see

To say

It doesn't look like me.

But peers and professors pile on applause,

They all open their mouths

And waggle their tongues,

Bobbing their heads like a beat on a drum:

"Wow.

What a likeness.

What a good likeness.

How exactly

Like you."