Mirror

Who is that girl in the mirror?

Why does she copy me?

Does she not realise my craving to be unique?

Doesn’t she know that being copied is my worse fear?

I look at her, the loathing radiating from my eyes

But she just stares back, with a look of pure hatred

I open my mouth to tell her to stop

But she does, the exact same time

So I let her go first

Yet she closes her mouth.

It’s as if she can predict what I am about to do

Then does the same

I try to surprise her

Still she copies me

Pulling a grotesque face when I glare at her

I wave;

She imitates me with a precision that’s accurate beyond measure.

Who is this girl?

Why does she imitate me?

Has she nothing better to do?

And why is she in my mirror?