Greetings flipped self,
I seem to see you surprisingly sequentially,
Day after day when I observe light that twice graced my face,
I guess I see you differently to the rest of the world,
Always swapped and switched,
Always dead on except for a little crook in my neck...
That bends my head up and down and side to side,
To observe a perpetually almost there beard...
There happens to be one being who sees both my face swapped and switched and in its right sides,
Both to know and carve from dust he did.
I see many people lying dormant in the folds of my expressions,
He sees the journey and plans he has for me,
And his image imprinted into my deepest recesses.