I ask them:
what do I look like?;
not expecting this,
they tell me to look in the mirror,
but the problem with mirrors is that they serve their true purpose,
a rare thing in this world.

They give me my life backwards,
starting with my death
and ending with my birth,
and hope I don’t notice something is off.
They hope I don’t notice that I haven’t
a clue what the world sees me as.
They hope I don’t notice that in reverse,
the chaos (only) appears to be purposeful.
They hope I don’t notice that my identity
has swum out to the sea of lost causes.

I understand why they tell me to look in the mirror.
They hope I see the lie
and accept it as the truth.
How else can I expect them to accurately answer
what do I look like
when I can’t even give them an honest response to
who are you?

I mean,
who are we, really?