“Whoever do you want to be?”
The astringent mirror asks of me.
“Does the image your perceive
Contest the one that you believe?”
Of course, I cannot help agree
That what it sees is not all it seems.
Staring into my gleaming eyes
To glean from them what fears I hide,
And yet I know what I would find
If I looked straight through my mind.
I’m not what I believe or see ,
The mirror reveals and deceives
As what constructs identity
Is not imposed by vanity;
But, then again, it still is me,
As much as I am physically.
Pale and pallid, tired eyes,
And other feelings I despise.
“Why do you not answer me?
Who is it you want to be?”
I burrow through my troubled mind,
But nothing there solidifies.
I know I don’t want stubborn lies
But what I want, I can’t describe.
“I guess I just want to be me,
But I don’t know who I should be.”
The mirror replied,
And I replied,