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

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