THE STRANGER WITHIN

When I see my name written down

It doesn't feel like my own

it feels more like it belongs

to a soul,

too far long gone

When I see my face in a puddle

or catch a glimpse in the mirror

it doesn't feel like my own

I don't recognize the traveller

but yet he looks back at me

like I am one of his own.

Yet still, I wonder who I am

beyond the shadow and the skin,

a whisper lost in time's vast span,

searching for the place within

the echoes of a forgotten song

resound beneath my skin

reminding me I carry on

a story waiting to begin.

So I hold my name with gentle care

and meet my mirror's gaze

knowing somewhere deep out there

my true self waits in the haze.