Then if you say so, is it not?
That each of us is a mirror,
To something inhibited deep -
Within the folds of our palms,
Beyond the wrinkles on our faces,
Isn't there a shimmer that I see,
Or am I seeing mirages again,
Far, few and some more now,
And yet I see reflections of you,
In yourself, every now and then -
So why deny that if I shoot you,
I still shoot a mirror, not you,
For you will live on and on -
The shattered mirror though,
Has a different story to tell,
It won't reflect you no more...