"Who are you to look at me that way?" My naked reflection quips as I continue to stare Defying the obvious wants of myself How philosophical, quite the Voltaire This This is indeed a fine place to begin "You've aged" I say "The coal shall not be kind" "Your hand shall be the devil"* says the man in the mirror "Your unskilled hand and your cursed mind" I sigh an exaggerated sigh Trying in vain to ease the tension But he, he grits his teeth Staring Accusing "And you can quit that immature rhyme" Jabbing his finger at me My eyes drop, as a scorned child Charcoal touches the Tiziano paper My model turns his back An act of defiance Or an expression of reality He is always ahead Leading me astray This is the view with which he, He has made me more familiar with Where I can feel in my place... **"Concentrate on the task in hand He always thinks it is about him"