Poem/Scribble: Reflections

But we have never seen ourselves
not our face, not our soul,
nor the thoughts in our mind
just the reflections,
just random clicks of a few moments,

between
what was captured and missed,
what was cherished and neglected,
what was filtered and accepted,
what was loved and shamed,
are we still ourselves
or have we toned down,
pretended, kept quiet,
lied, adjusted, tolerated
to keep the peace,
to love,
to hold on?
Is this truly us?
Are we happy?