again

I looked at the man who stared back in the mirror
I searched through each and every image from photos, old and new
Before long it became a frantic situation
Somewhere, at some time, I had completely lost myself
The man of glass that stares back at me is not who I was
The celluloid boy as child or adolescent was not who I am
Defining me has become seemingly in-definitive
Perhaps I am no more than an answerless question
I suspect I am a questionable answer
Does that mean that I stop and simply allow it to continue?
No. Like many others before me this flesh born malady will be fought
I will be better. I shall become me.
Again.






-j.g.smith (02/07/09)