A budding writer's collection

From Under The Sea

Mirror looks at me,
But is it me?
The one looking back at it?
Rain pours down,
But is it the rain pouring?
Or, is it the sky pushing it up?

Fire spreads around,
But is it the fire that spreads?
Is it not the air that pulls it closer?
Crack splits through the wall,
But does it separate the sides?
Or, did the sides separate to accommodate the crack?

In the world where real is unreal,
Am I breathing?
Or is it the air forcefully entering my lungs?
Under the sea,
Reality is a dream.

Mirror looks at me,
But I stare back,
From the bottom of the sea.