I look in the mirror and what I see is me.

The socially anxious, self-criticizing, big dreamer

that is me.

A guy with high aspirations and strong morals

but always thinks he’s wrong.

Someone who constantly questions himself

and struggles with finding friends with which he can get along.

That person who prefers to be alone with his thoughts…

so I snap out of them and focus on the mirror.

But maybe all that is me because of the lighting in here.

It doesn’t paint my skin nicely so I turn off the lights,

close my eyes and dig deep inside to find the real me.

A living oxymoron. My own harsh critic

and my own secret admirer.

Confident to the fault of questioning my confidence.

Am I using confidence to hide myself?

Have I put the real me in a dark storage room

stacked up high on shelf.

Have I used humor and smiles to filter out

the pool of sadness that lies inside?

Inside there is doubt, anger and uncertainty

But the willingness to take each day with each stride.

Inside I try to make myself strong

but even my own strength has its bouts with dystrophy

Inside there lies an adventurer, a genius, an inventor,

a lover, a fighter, a pacifist, and a never-ending curiosity.

But how can I be I and still be me.

Then there’s the matter of myself ­­–and who he claims to be.

I think I know now who I see when I see me.

I see myself.

A person who is all those things and more, living in the vessel that is me.

All in perfect polyphony.