by Sofia Kioroglou
The looking-glass self
Your stabs hit me exactly where you hope they would
with such ferocity that gouges out all vanity and conceit.
A knife thrust through the illusions of my bloated ego,
An ugly distortion of an inner image through a plastic glass
which finally crumpled with me looking at the looking-glass self.
Can I tell your dog a secret?
"Can I tell your dog a secret?" Stephanie asked.
"I didn't know you were a dog whisperer" I answered quizzically.
A barrage of thoughts racing through my mind like it is a finish line.
How come we know nothing about the people we think we know the most?
Time to take a cigarette and put it in my mouth and let it burn my lungs...
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