Every morning I wake up and I see myself in the bathroom mirror
But recently I've noticed the person who stares back at me doesn't look like me anymore
Sure they will mimic my motions and comb their hair the same way
And sure they may sound like me with the same inflections in their voice
But somehow I can't seem to believe it is me anymore
They can show their crude and red drawings to me and I will not believe that I made them
They will show me their eye that has faded to black like the dreams we both wept to last night
They can show the tears on the napkins we both used the night before
At this point, I just refuse to look at it
But I will never believe those drawings on the torn pages they show me every day were ever made by me
I will never believe they could ever be me
They can't be...