When I look in the mirror, I see my past.
My past is a silent killer, stalking me. I cannot remember a thing, but everyone seems to remember it all. People come up to me and clamber on, “Do you remember?”
I do not.
I do not remember what you look like, I don’t remember who you are. Do you really remember this? Or are you making it up too?
I stare at myself in the mirror, I see the Devil hims...