Of countless quirks and motley shape,
In local trains and parking lot,
Who smile back more often than not,
Strangers of the routine landscape.
Then there are those I once knew,
Now strangers they remain,
The fabric of ties torn and crumpled,
Threadbare tears and laughter shared,
Through those gaping holes I view my past,
Friends, love, familia.
Strangers who would ne’er join each dot,
Witnesses to squall, wounds agape,
Folks I know I yearn to escape,
And reflect in an unknown spot.
But the one that seems to bother me,
I see him every single day,
Aware of my thought behind every deed,
He seems to smile at me too,
I can’t seem to meet his eye,
The stranger in the mirror.
Of all the strangers I have survived
Truth remains the strangest, so far.
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