We all live

Within a dream

Of ourselves 

 

Our inner mirror 

Reflecting 

Very differently 

To its weaker counterpart

The one 

Made of glass

Our inner wardrobe 

Very different to the one

We we wear for real

Our inner voice 

Almost unrecognisable 

To that poor 

Imposter 

We hear when 

It plays 

Back to us

On whatever 

Modern technology 

Allows us 

To replicate 

So badly 

 

And so we strut

And we pose

And we dream 

And we live 

Acting out two 

Dramas

The one 

On the outside 

And the one 

On the in 

 

And as we 

Dine 

By candlelight 

Who

Is to say 

Which 

Is the meat

And which 

The mirage