Identity

I am the reflection in the broken mirror
seven years bad luck but who’s counting?

I am the blood on bruised knuckles
as strong as iron yet easily washed away.

I am the nicotine stain on a finger
a small reminder of a lifetime together.

I am the abnormal cell in your lung
leaving you breathless with anticipation.

I am the person who looked closely at his belief
who easily picked out the lie.