Delusion?

I exist not as I am:
A mirrored image of glamour.
Trace back through each reflection
Until who I am is but a collection
Of women invented
With no incentive
but to save a man like you.

A would be artist
lost touch with who
Knows what; the scar is
Hidden but still you see;
Whats wrong with me?
Our unspoken debate.

I am reaching for myself
But glass stops true connection;
What if you only want to kiss my reflection?