She loves the girl,
He does not care,
This is a tug of war at best.
Is her will mine?
Is my will his?
Are the three of us not one?
Can it be there is a fourth?
Blurring lines give way once more.
Lines I swore never to cross
Are smeared away in my mind, like chalk.
She is me and I am her
And he is me and I am him
But how can that be?
One whole of a marred tapestry,
Grotesque in its beauty:
Half divine, halve mundane.
You ask me who I am.
I am that I am, that I am that I am.
Perhaps twice more—
Like a delicate delectable flower
You devour my willpower in earnest,
As a puppet-master you assert your power.
What will I do when my will wilts?
I sleep in a cocoon of tranquillity,
Helpless as can be.
I watch him raise the gun,
I watch her lower it.
Mind over matter or to follow the heart?
He clicks the trigger.
Or perhaps it is she.
Grimly I see that it was me.
I’m a starburst fully ignited.
What is it that you have incited?
Piece by piece I’m chipped away.
Open the door. What do you see?
Four doors and a fifth still forming.
Each door leads to its own labyrinth,
A Guardian Minotaur at every turn.
Who dares brave such a path
To find the true honest Me?
Who am I, you ask?
I might as well be a mirror.
I’ll reflect what you want to see.
Until one day you see no more.