Are We All Reflections, Or Are We Reality? - POEM

 Are We All Reflections, Or Are We Reality? - Poem. 

Are we all reflections, or are we reality?

Am I merely a reflection? 

The reflection of me is the curvature of my mass?

Did my reflection create me, or did I create my reflection?  

Am I a reflection of the light shining on my cells and clothes.

Is the reflection or photograph of my being, real or is it fiction? 

Am I a reflection of the curvature of my reflection?

And where does my reflection go when I leave the room? 

Does my reflection care more than I do?

Does this make me the subservient of my reflection?  

Like a vain creature that follows it's superficial looks? 

I have never seen myself. 

Only my reflection of my past. 

Do we judge ourselves by others? 

Are we reflections of their views?

Like the black hole, I think I am the centrifugal force.

But without the others there is not anything.

So perhaps reflections are all there is? 

Nothing is real without the powers of light, and sounds, and others views that shines on us? 

And are all the views of us just reflections of our other shells.