I am in front of a mirror that's supposed to reflect,
But who's me and who's him, I cannot elect.
Trying to see clearly, but distorted reflection remains.
Then I see the cracks, traces of many storms...
Many rains.
Tracing my scars, the mirror traces its cracks,
Any doubt seems to flee,
For the one standing on both sides...
Is me.
...
Thanks for reading my poem, please vote if you enjoyed.
...
