The reflection

I look in the mirror
what do I see
but a stranger looking back at me.

I blink my eyes, and the stranger remains in my sight.
How does he copy my every move?
How does he seem to know my every action as I make it?

The man in the mirror is a stranger
someone I do not know,
who looks back at me
seemingly into my soul.

I don't know who he is,
I don't know why he chose me to be
but he shares my reflection,
or am I but a reflection of him?

Does he think and move,
his actions causing me to follow suit?
My life merely a puppet on a string?

If that were so,
that would explain the emptiness so,
that would explain the void
I have inside.

It would explain why I feel the disconnect from life itself.
If I were the reflection, life would make so much more sense.

Alas,
I am no puppet.
I am no reflection.
The trauma accumulated has created this void.
the trauma accumulated has created this pain.

I don't recognise the reflection,
but I recognise the fire in his eyes,
I see the determination welling up inside,
and one day soon,
I hope to see me.

K








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