My world is the dot of the i
Perhaps yours is the apostrophe before the m,
Which is also mine
But the body of the I is the collective
And if you capital the collective, half the self is lost
I can't see the other who laughs as loud as myself
On both ends of the hall of mirrors
The one who leaves was I before
And the one who comes will never know
But I'm in the middle, I see it, as I look at my reflection
I lack amusement for the moment, the joy fades away
My perception on thriving has been shrunk by the otherness
I see the other's view from my point of view
Within the collective view
There's no intersection between the dot of the i and the m
My reflection is split by you, like our minds, and our bodies
When trying to come back into being one
I rummage you
And I touch the glass
Or is it
(Hyperbolically)
in reverse?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem