Meperbole in Pomes and Epigrams

You write about yourself
as though your hand
even knows the contours of your mind.
It isn’t that they are strangers,
per se
more like social media friends.
So you write,
and
the ink refuses to set
the hand does not rise
and in the process you are
smudged.
What remains
isn’t you
per se
but fetch the mirror

(Unfinished)