[what i was thinking about during service that i don't know if i feel anymore]

when i look in the mirror
i don't see me-- i see my mother
and i'm not sure if it's because of my olive skin and Spanish temper
that blazes like a firecracker
or simply because i can hear her voice in my head
telling me who i am, but even more
who i'm not and should be

when i look in the mirror
i see her failures... and mine
i see her grip on my shoulder, pushing me
to be everything she ever was
to redeem every single thing she wasn't
wanting a better life for me than she ever had for herself

yet in my own eyes i find her disappointment staring back at me
i find buried memories
that adamantly refuse to be forgotten and stuffed under the bed
and i stare
and i remember
and i'm sorry (for who i am and who i'm not)

but as it is, we remain two sides of the same coin
ever flipping over and over, 'round and 'round
telling the same sad story
of heartache and regret and shame
to the point where i forget whose reflection is whose
when i look in the mirror.