Looking in the mirror,
I see all that I've been,
All the different people,
My meagre years have seen.
I've been blonde and brown,
I've been red and white,
Concerning all my dyeing,
My hair has had a fight.
My cheeks have grown out sharper,
My eyes still stuck between:
An indecisive hazel,
Sometimes brown, or green.
My figure's still quite willowy,
My running helps it stay,
And my hair's as long as ever,
Spread out right where I lay.
A wisdom to my gaze now shows,
It wasn't there before,
I've grown up all through these years,
And still I yearn for more.
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