Read Time:2 Minute, 6 Second
i. they said i'd learn who i am, learn the secrets heaven hid in me, if my body is a poem from God, maybe I can read the lyrics when I see my reflection. ii. the stories i see scare me. a ghost in the mirror - he wears my face, but paints an image of broken bodies buried. iii. i am what i see, or, i have become what i saw, a plaque for many fallen to fear, my insecurities leaving there and renting a house in my flesh. iv. a roaring sea, a deafening earthquake, a still small voice, i am Elijah again, without the meal from the gods. v. a hashtag here, a “woke” comment there, i like, i stan, i share, i’m lost in the talk, i’m nowhere. vi. i carry a face of different colours, like a rainbow did my makeup, or a mirage, cause i disappear when asked, "who are you?" vii. i can't sound an answer to "what's your name?" cause how do i choose one and leave the other, like, "I'm a feminist with a touch of masculinism" like when a Priest plays devil to a young lad. viii. maybe, i echo the loudest voice, or i happen in time, the sound of now, the sound of today. ix. i would learn, a book of me knows me better, when i become today's yesterday, a story to be read, a life already lived, when i come to the end, to know who I am. x. the epilogue. there's a ghost in the mirror, who today is, and tomorrow is gone, who would only live preserved in tongues too restless to sleep, or a book, or a wall, if he lives well enough. But who he really is, only time can say for sure.