it is, as it has always been

the two of you, mirror-images

so to speak, neither one

more true, nor more false

simply variations on a theme

let not one be real, though

one yelps when pinched

and the other less real

feeling naught—it feels 

well enough the unfelt

and if that is too cryptic

think of it this way, the one

you see, sees you, too

the two of you, upon reflection

are one—don't be taken aback

if what you see is unfamiliar

it is because you have looked out

for so long, so many years

and that is good, for gazing

at your own reflection too long

invites comparison to those

to whom you may wish

not to be compared, those 

who see themselves as they wish

to be seen, but are not

splash cold water upon 

your morning face, brace yourself

and look, be not afraid

what you see is hard-earned

and honest, and undeniable