Unmatched me
I look in a mirror and I see that the two sides of my face do not match.
One of my eyebrows is a little straighter than the other. One ear is set
higher on the side of my head than my other ear. The two sides of my
mouth do not match. One of my eyes is just a little bit bigger than the
other. And no matter how hard I brush, one side of my hair stands up
more than the other side.
Other parts of me don’t exactly match, either. My right hand is larger
than my left hand. My mother says her left hand is larger than her
right.
When I get new shoes, one is always a bit tighter than the other. The
man in the shoe store said that most people have one foot that is bigger
than the other.
One of my legs is a tiny bit longer than the other leg. And one of my
arms is a tiny bit longer than the other arm. I know this because the
doctor told me so.
Why, if I could be divided into two parts the right side of me wouldn’t
exactly match the left side!
I’m not exactly like anyone else. Even the two halves of me are not
exactly like each other.
I look in a mirror and I can see that the left half of my face is
not exactly the same as the right half of my face.
If two left halves of my face were to grow side by side, the face I’d
see would be somewhat different from the one I have.
And if two right halves of my face grew together, I’d see still another
face. I’d rather have my unmatched face!
