The Mirror

When I look at myself

In and on the mirror of life 

I found nothing like me

More or less to describe

The person in front of me

Is not the me I am

To the world I belong

And the world in my rhyme 

Is different from everything 

That I am known to

Who is the person right there

With pain and screwed

It’s neither a reverie 

Nor a mirage

It’s something so real

A mission at some stage

I can’t break it, dunno why

It’s not me though, very much look alike

Me and the mirror , seems so different 

Frustrated irony, suicidal instincts 

No I am not that frightened 

Not so confused

I choose the life

Not in the mirror but in screws