Who is that in the mirror

Carrying the face of a stranger

I always used to wonder, see men on the subway or on the street and wonder could it be him? could it be him? could it be him? could I randomly meet him one day?

And I would look in the mirror and wonder who are you? and I would see all of my friends and their parents and I could tell, I could see the family resemblance, I could point out all their features they got from their parents,

But with myself I'd look in the mirror and I was like? whose hair did I inherit? whose nose? whose ears? whose eyes? whose facial structure do I have?

And my mom would grab my hand and hold it against hers and be like " you have my hands" but I don't have your face? no one really looks at your hands, or your feet, it's your eyes, your brow, your smile, your nose, your hair, the shape of your face. and I don't know whose face I'm wearing.