Sipping from the glass of water,
I wade in shallow murky insecurities.
I drift lightly with concern,
so as to not stir harmful impurities.

Sipping from the glass of water,
my guilt submerges and is immersed.
I observe its feeble descension,
as I subdue the excruciating stale thirst.

Sipping from the glass of water,
I see deformed dishonest reflections.
I analyze them with vigilance,
scrutinizing their divergence from perfection.

Sipping from the glass of water,
my eyes are mirrored faintly at the bottom.
They dart hastily left to right,
yet I'm not obligated to halt them.

Sipping from the glass of water,
an image is shifted into view.
Faulty features begin their ascension,
appearing a light and crude blue.