Venetian sisters, by Federico Beltran Masses
Clementine

Questions

I feel like I have lived a thousand lives,
Every photograph a different person, I see.
Each memory a lifetime ago.
 
The future already seems like a memory,
and here I am seeing the endless possibilities.
I will never be the same again.
 
I am not the person I was,
but always will be the person I am.
I am not sure who that is,
but I am always positively sure
who I think that is.
It's a paradox called life.
 
Everyone sees their own truth within you.
 
Do I choose to shelter myself from the truth?
To avoid those who see the truth in me I care not to see?
Is that why we surround ourselves with positivity?
Are we afraid of what we see in the mirror?
Or is this just existential crisis at its finest hour.

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