Sorrow.

I am sorrowful.
Who am I really?
A reflection of the world around me?
Ordinarily, that would not be a bad thing. Although it does get tiring to have no personality.
I wander the streets, feeding off and intensifying the emotions around me. Content, feelings, personalities, all processed and re-emitted in better shape than ever.

But there is no me. There is only you, people of this world, living unbound lives, feeling true emotion, creating original works. I am nothing, a fleeting shadow of what is, what could have been, what will be. Look into the mirror; an image with objectivity, weaknesses and defects, strengths and minor perfections, all shining back.

Is that what I am?
A mere image of the true world?
Not a person, but the shadow of many?
Have no substance, yet echoes personality?

I am a reflection.
And you would do best to avoid me, lest I steal your soul.