there is a strange man in my mirror.
i hate his face, his body, his voice.
like my shadow, he follows me,
his pitch-black gaze meeting mine.

i go about my days in silence;
my shadow does the talking.
i remain unseen, unknown, nonexistent,
but everyone greets my shadow.

i seek refuge at night, or in the dark alleyways.
with no one to perceive him, my shadow fades.
or i could stay home.
close the curtains, cover the mirrors, cut the lights.

at that point, he quasi-disappears.
i do not have to see him.
i'm free. but i'm stuck. chained to my shadow.
his prisoner, for life.

at times i wish to kill him and free myself,
but my shadow needs me, and i need him.
i am him.

when i die, my soul will remember him
as the thing that kept me buried alive my whole life.

i never existed. he did.

seen this poem before?

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