Tomorrow Instead


the lathered face
in the mirror
stares blankly back
as the straight razor
slowly scrapes away
small sections of foam
in short, deliberate strokes

facing his daily dilemma
god, this is so difficult
maintaining this masquerade
shall I?
what if?
it seems a fifty-fifty toss up
once again

ouch!v a nick!
damn, that hurts!
he pastes on
a tiny piece
of torn tissue
and rushes off to work

perhaps, he’ll cut his throat
tomorrow morning
instead

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