A desolate and lonely
figure stares at the stranger in the mirror of Life.
Alas, I spent my life leaning on props.
When they succumbed to the vagaries of time.
I now wonder who I really am?
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a really nice piece. one time or another some more then most we do wonder if the shadow that follows is of former self as the thought of what happened as a stranger stairs back at us