Am I Me?
A salty tear snails down a cheek,
I realise it is mine.
And staring back across the room,
a replica of me.
But is this really me I see?
Are both of us the same?
I reach out to touch myself;
I feel cold and hard.
A ghostly face, a silent gaze,
but is this really me?
Is it a fake, a fraud, a pretence,
does it feel like me?
Or am I the replica,
and she the sad young girl?
If this is so and I am fake,
then where do we belong?
IMAGE: Philipp Klinger
1 Comment – Postiwch sylw
Dan (Sub-Editor)
Rhoddwyd sylw 73 mis yn ôl - 29th April 2010 - 22:27pm
Sometimes it's best to not think. Just go for it - bash your soul out into the keyboard without even stopping to read what you've written. Some of the best poems were written that way. :)