Look in the mirror, the looking glass of lies.
Try to make connections, look for personal ties.
Who is this person? Is this the real me?
Or is distortion and darkness all that I see.

I used to think I knew him, so very long ago.
But father time, and nature has forced him to grow.
I stare, and peer at him day after day.
But who I thought I was once is so far away.

A stranger now to myself is all that I see.
A familiar face like a photo, two dimensional, not three.

Looking deep into these eyes, there’s no rhyme or reason.
Of who I am deep inside, emotions bleed treason.
Crumpled, bent, folded and torn, worn out and weary.
I find it hard to trust my thoughts, my own mind leery.

So day after day, I look and I look hoping to see.
That little boy looking back, that little boy that was me.

Copyright ©2004 Ty Horveath