id

(Surely no-one knows who we really are?)

I polish my tarnished silver doubts
as the day's end fades to burnished gold
the perpetual search for answers
to questions one would only asks oneself
the me that none will ever know
no deathbed revelations here,
actor or charlatan
bigot critic racist cheat.

My mirror-less reflection
retina ready
glazed to a permanently
soft focused haloed record
of every breath I've ever taken,
is now the target of the bullets, knives and arrows
that will never find their mark
but become litter to my tread
life's cruel jagged swarf
dulled by my lengthening shadow

© Graham Sherwood 01/2017