mirror, mirror on the wall

In the morning, sometimes I don't recognise my face. It's only late at night, under the mirror's light that my face comes back to life. Purple eyes, fleshy lips. What does my face say? I look, I look, I look. I look some more. My face remains silent and yet it seems to speak. Wished I could hear what it has to say. I'm sure I'd understand. If only I could hear it. I try, I try, I try. Purple eyes, fleshy lips. Going to sleep. I never recognise my face in the morning. It must be the light.