In the mirror's churning reflection, I'd gaze,
A constant distortion, a bewildering haze,
My true self obscured, by the narcissistic game,
A battle within, for my identity's name.

The mirror would twist, my image it'd bend,
As the projections took hold, a relentless trend,
I knew I was good, with a heart that was kind,
But the mirror showed a monster, a distorted bind.

I'd wrestle with doubt, with the shadows that loomed,
In this churning mirror, my soul consumed,
Battling to know who I truly am,
In the face of projections, like a never-ending jam.

A good heart, a kind soul, the truth deep inside,
But the mirror's reflection, a turbulent ride,
I fought for clarity, for a mirror that'd see,
The real me, not the monster, I longed to be free.