My Goatee, His Goatee

I look in the mirror,
And what do I see?
A man looking back
With a straight cut goatee.

I look to the left,
A reflection I see.
Of the man in the mirror
With a straight cut goatee.

Where did he come from?
Why is he there?
It’s the door to the cabinet
At which I now stare.

It stands ajar,
And not closed very nice.
With this slight angle difference
I see myself twice.

But it’s not cut straight,
As I look and I see.
Does the man on the left
have a crooked goatee?

I examine the optics,
Unshaven, uncouth.
Can one man lie
While the other tells truth?

The man on the left
Averts his eyes to the right.
He stares back at the man
who looks ‘out-of-sight’.

The man on the right
Looks me right in the eyes.
He says “You look good!”
without thinking twice.

I look back to the left,
He looks odd in the light.
The goatee on that man
Is curved to the right.

But the man on the left
Is the one they all see.
The man on the right’s
my identity.

When the man in the mirror
Tells me it’s all right,
I must check his reflection
to negate any plight.

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