• Who is that in the mirror?
    Is that reflection mine?
    Should I be filled with terror?
    Is this some kind of sign?

    I see someone with long hair,
    With comely features.
    I know it's not polite to stare,
    Not even teachers.

    I look and see that person again.
    I come day by day,
    And I write this down with ink and pen.
    Here at night I pray.

    I've come to make a stand,
    Against the mirrored land.