Written by Jacob Ibrag
Questioning my inquiring process.
Am I seeking the right answers? Are
these thoughts original? If not, where
did they come from? Looking into
the mirror, witnessing fragments of
all the people that touched my psyche
take shape to form the face I see in
front of me. A hybrid. Better. Worse.
More of the same. Recycled. Carbon
copy cluster of garbage. I become
them. Part of the whole system.
Politically correct human.