Which of these reflections is really me?
after all this time it's hard to see.
Time to find out so I start to peel,
unfarmiliar things I couldn't help feel.
Each layer I pulled proceeded to reveal,
which of the reflections was the one that was real.
Like an onion with my true self inside,
seemed like the perfect place for my fears to hide.
No one could touch me in my onion as long as I didn't leave,
but there wasn't much room in there at times hard to breathe.
Slowly my true self was dying being replaced by an imposter,
controlling my thoughts, actions and even my posture.
I pulled and I pulled with everything I had,
but the onion didn't like it I could tell he was mad.
He put up a fight I could only admire,
but at the end he had to retire.
No more layers no more illusion,
things were clear no confusion.
There I was in all of my glory,
the author and actor in my own story.
No one to impress no reason to boast,
live and let live and live it to the most!

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This Poems Story

Ego death.