Reversible Poem by Trevor Singh

A blank slate,
A blank page
The lines stare at me
As if, begging to be written on..

Who am I?
I know not, any longer..

The curtains cast a shadow across the room,
Stealing the light from the burning hot pavements outside..
Below me is both a prince,
And a pauper
And yet, they're both oblivious
To each others existence

Yet, they choose to deny it
'This is who I am' I say,
And I cannot change it.

I am not reversible.