I hear voices reflecting my face,
and they’re singing of who I can be,
but the voice that is still to be heard,
is the voice that I know comes from me.
And the glass sings to me a new song.
Everyday a new me it will show,
but I know not the truth from the lie.
What am I? What is me? Can I know?
I don’t know what I am or should be;
I don’t know what I was yesterday.
Still a hope that I find in this night,
that a dream will lead me on my way.
Tale Told 