Written by Jacob Ibrag

‘No longer


we’re home.’

Whispers grow

stronger till they

provoke my

sleep state.



 ceiling.  That’s not

me,  at least not

on the outside.

That’s me

from within,

a colorful monster.

Used to living

half a life,

half a secret.

Even from me,

I’d bury it deep.

This place

feels familiar.

Don’t know

where I am,

sense of


Can’t remember

my name,

it’s right there

at the tip of

my tongue.

Trying to

will it through

every fiber of

my being,

yet it slips

farther away.

Used to define

me, used to

subscribe to it.

Used to,

till this

face appeared.

I am the

man in the


Artist Unknown


4 comments on “Strangers

  1. Who is that in my mirror?

    Liked by 1 person

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