Sometimes I sit,
And I wonder what’s become of me.
Am I truly the empty shell reflected in the mirror?
Am I the leaf, dried and brittle, dancing across the pavement
At the fickle will and whim of the wind?
Is there something more to me than what I see
Reflected in the mirror?
A glimpse, perhaps, of everything I thought I would be?
Was supposed to be?
Maybe she is gone, and I am all that is left.
Wondering where and how I came to be here