man in the mirror

who am i

if left unperceived,

trapped in a mirror,

this false vision of me?

if trapped in a prison

of existential isolation

in which i am the only me

for eons,

unseen by man or beast alike

left only with myself

and this mirror i call my sight.

who am i

if i was never told who to be,

a mold left unpoured

or cracked at the seams.

who am i

when i am allowed to seep

like the man in the mirror

who watches me weep.

is he even me

am i him?

or are we both mere wanderers

in this cruel cautionary hymn?

who am i

if trapped in imperception,

tied up in the desire

to vanish

and stifled by the gag

of apathy?

a silent ghost that walks these halls,

i see only myself reflected in the glass.

yet these eyes do not feel like my own,

because they've only seen reflections.

these hands do not feel like my own,

because they've never touched perfection.

a mouth that's never tasted

a body that's never arched its back

in the early morning

as a caring mother

bids you to rise.

who am i

if left unsocialized?

a feral beast, driven insane by my own

constructions?

a statue built with my own hands?

if i were alone, would i finally be able to

figure out who i am,

after picking apart the seams and stitching

myself back together?

or would i be

the husk

that everyone seems to see,

by losing Them,

would i also

lose Me?