Images are reflections of you, and of me

And she and of he

I see them everywhere, near and afar

In the mirror, through the glass, an image

I see

In the present, there’s an image, and it stems

 From the past

The camera and lens, a man’s leering eyes

I look over my shoulder, while taking my strides

I won’t be offended, I’m keeping my pride

I step on the bus, and the image I see

Through the window, made of glass

It is the dark side of me