He is nothing like me

Universe

Perhaps I look to others to define myself

My reflection in the mirror only points to a stranger:

someone I might know; but I have been with him so long I might not remember what makes him me.

That wrinkled brow, where did it come from?

The gray, the bitter pain inside my being, it was not put there by my will.

A deepening fear has grabbed hold of me.

That can’t be my doing.

No, the mirror gives a poor reflection

And so I look to find what best defines me.

Look at him, the beggar in the streets; there because of his own doing no doubt; nothing like me.

Look at him, wanting everything for everyone, as if some cornucopia got found; nothing like me.

Look at him, expecting to be treated like the rest of us as he burns the flag, but he is nothing like me.

Look at him, raging at a world he feels has betrayed his kind; nothing like me.

Look at him, kissing another man while walking down the street; he is nothing like me.

Look at him, telling me his God is dead; he is nothing like me.

Look at him, holding his gun like some phallus that has been cut from his body; he is nothing like me.

Look at him, ideas and speeches that alienate the masses; he is nothing like me.

Look at him, believing science has all the answers; he is nothing like me.

Look at him, believing God has all the answers; he is nothing like me.

Look at me, believing only what a special place in time might give reason for me to believe. Each one I saw; each one I observed; each one I listened too did their dirty work upon my soul, to where even the mirror does not know who I am.
And the least of what I should forget; eternity has had its way with me.

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