Is it odd that I must ask a question,
Each time I see my own reflection?
I look in the mirror, who will I see?
Which face will be there, staring back at me?
The one with the warm and friendly smile?
Or the one spitting words of hate and bile?
Or the stern, authoritative figure?
Or the angry one, easy to trigger?
I never know which I’ll see staring back,
Or even if it’s real or just a mask.
So long is it since I knew my true face,
Each one I wear, as my own, I must embrace.