The Image

Each morning as I get up out of bed, All kinds of thoughts goes through my head. In my heart I search for peace of mind, Just one certain answer I hope to find. Another day with all things that are new, just one certain answer in which is true. Before an answer can be given to me, a question must first be asked you see. Who is that? will I find out today? what is that? lest he should go astray. The mirror does not tell me in words to hear, but cast an image in which I fear. A man standing there just looking at me, as if a closer look he would like to see. The look in his eyes at a steadfast glare, as if with him I had something to share. I see him once a day yet we do not speak, maybe today I will ask him for what I seek. As I make my way to the place I dread, trying to start the conversation in my head. As I step up to the mirror we stand face to face, how he makes me feel so out of place. For He copies every little thing I do, so today I blurted out - just who the hell are you? We spoke the same thing at the same time you see, once again he just copied me! The answer to this question I may never know, yet my walk in life; to you; the answer He does show!