Who Am I
I guess you can call me whatever you like, but those who know me best call me Chris. My reflection is whatever you would like it to be, fit to be whatever you want of me, but I sit here clinging to what is left of me.
The real me, an image of this so called reflection stares back. The mirror has never been a true friend, screaming every flaw that has ever passed into view.
The word beautiful never means anything without strings attached. Just to sit and watch as the sun goes down. Bringing the nightmare along with sleep.
Dancing to the beat of a ticking clock. Counting down the seconds to another day of my true self. Dissolving into something of what people want of me, expect of me.
