Why is it sometimes that I feel so friendless and alone
Though in a crowed room I stand forlorn
Many people there can be so crude and so cold
No one notices that I am made to feel isolated
That they are shoving me into solitude
Forced to spend another night on your own
As I stand and stare into the mirror
I ask myself, why are they so blind, I’m standing right here
At times I seem to not be able to tell
The difference between myself and my own reflection
Which one is real I say, this doesn’t make sense
Is it me, myself, or I, which one is the true me.
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Edwin