When I move my hand why do you

Am I a figment of my imagination too

And don’t you get tired of what I wear

And why is it that all you do is stare

What happened when I stare into my eyes

It always looks your soul has died

Millions of you and one of me

What could I do to set you free

Free of the curse of mimic and mock

Free of the time unknown by the clock

And how do I know your name isn’t Jim

Or even if you’re a him

Why do I look into the mirror and see you

But when you see me

Do you see yourself

My very first poem. This poem was written after I saw a cool mirror fun house. Thousands of worlds going smaller and smaller and smaller into nothingness. Mirror image or multi-personalities? You choose.