To place a name upon me,
define me, make me real,
you first must claim to own me,
is this how fake you feel?

I see you from the mirrors,
but windows, to me, blind.
Then who do I appear for?
An unsuspecting mind?

I SIP YOUR FLOWING ICHOR.
YOUR BLEEDING SETS ME FREE.
YOUR WOUNDS, TO ME, ARE JUSTICE.
Soon I shall dwell with thee.

A sparkle in a puddle,
a star, reflected dim,
could set my form on fire,
and change my "me" to "him".

I've spent time in the forest,
and freezing in the snow,
to clear my mind of evil,
yet have nothing to show,
my anxious mind yet wanders,
to places I can't know,
and often faintly ponders
just who, to you, I show.