Man In The Mirror(2):

I'm like a one way mirror searching for myself
In an idealistic silver world of numbness,
Where collected reflections and reversed images
Are magically pieced together with remarkable likeness.

I'm trapped between those tiny grains of sand
That are ever shifting and unrecognizable to me,
Yet suspended in empty space while frozen in time
And motionless to successfully set myself free.

For I see no identifying features I can relate
Or no similarities I can acceptingly embrace,
Nothing but confusion in complete utter stillness
That doesn't even define me with a straight face.

So I'm still looking for those distinguished markings
That's puts a caricature to my crystal clear face,
When the light in this room is at just the right angle
Giving me that advantage I need to reveal my pokerface.

Because what is projected and what is interpreted
Is left entirely up to me and to my eye's beholder,
And the longer I stare the more I'm convinced
That the man in the mirror is my faceless imposter.