In my room there hangs a mirror,
and every day when I walk past,
someone with my semblance
stares out from behind the glass.

I know that reflection holds secrets,
riddles I long to unfurl,
but he remains forever indifferent,
to the plights in my parallel world.

I would love to pass through that mirror,
to go join my passive friend,
for I like to think that on his side of the glass
is where happiness knows no end.

But I realize my dreams are in vain,
for whenever I try to pass through,
I find myself being blocked, not by glass,
but by my reflection - trying too.