I started with a mirror,
with questions of who and why.
But he just stared back at me,
reflecting what I already knew.
I met with a prophet,
who gave me a what:
The illusion of God,
and He was the only way.
I searched for a philosopher,
but was met with several.
Each had conflicting whys,
but none a who.
I moved on to science,
and it gave me a how:
It told of creation,
but never the why.
I read some books;
each had their own why,
And each character their own who,
but it was just fiction.
I looked at old photos,
and found an old me.
But I could not see who it was,
or what it all meant.
I turned to self help,
which told how to find who;
But this notion was sold to me,
and I lost more than I gained.
So I went back to my mirror,
and I broke it.
A poem I had to write for my Humanities class, relating to Existentialism.
