Who Am I
A fucking dick,
A self-centred prick.
A ranting bore,
An attention whore.
A pious saint,
An animal without restraint.
A silent glare,
An uncomfortable stare.
To each person
and every individual
I am nothing but a
different angle
You might see me as one of the above
but all of these just fit me like a glove.
That can be removed
when I need to be approved.
Which one of these is truly me?
Am I nothing but a hollow shell?
I tell myself
these are just parts
I portray
but in the process
have I
lost
me
Who am I.
Or maybe I know
who I am
deep inside.
Dare I find me?
This poem is about:
Me