I see a person looking back at me,
Staring at me the way I stare in return.
Every gesture I make he reacts to me,
and I realise that what I learn he learns.
I see a person who has my eyes reflecting my soul,
who has my features from every bit of flesh and bone.
I see a person who looks where I look,
from right to left; we share the same view.
I see a person who feels the same as what I feel,
contemplating ideologies between what is false and real.
I see a person who wants to be where i am,
And I where he is yet he also has my hands.
I see a person who reaches out when i reach out,
who in the cold of the night also breathes loud.
I see a person bereft of will; exhausted from trying,
but isn't it strange that I also feel like I'm dying?
I see a person reaching out; trying to find me,
but when I reach out I feel something cold yet shiny.
It's a mirror; I see a reflection of me,
in a world where many defections I see.
The mirror is not just an ornament of the house,
but also an object to find yourself even in doubt.
Hearts may scream all it can bare but not a sound,
Nothing to be heard and certainly nothing to be found.
Yet look in the mirror and everything shall be there,
You shall see you; perhaps the only one that really cares.