I Am...Who am I?

I Am...Who am I?


Who am I?

I am x-

An unknown, never constant, and always drifting.

I wonder what it is that escapes my comprehension,

the murky unknown of the future, or

the murky days of now.

and then I think I know,

with a bright clarity, a flashing light in the darkness-

but no, I do not know. All I can do

is wonder y I am this way, if I am Nobody, or

if it’s all really as simple as “x+2.”


I can feel a swirl and rush of emotions, and

I can see bright eyes looking out at the world,

but only blank lost eyes looking back at myself.


All I am is x,

An undefined variable, a loose thread, a wild card.

X is me, and I am he.

I am driven to perfection,

like the cold calculations of x. Unfeeling and unflinching,

deriving truths with logic, but

still playing cards with magic.


I sigh as I ponder on the unknown.

What’s the point, really?

But then, I sigh again as I ponder on the topic of me.

After all, I’m not just Nobody.
I can’t be!

I am Somebody,

just unknown as x,

because I am x, and x is me.



I pretend at home. I pretend at school.

I pretend not to feel,

not to be aware of my surroundings.

But I know the truth- hidden away in my thoughts:

I can’t do much more, not this, not for much longer.

I can’t pretend not to cry.
I can’t pretend not to want those fleeting memories of the past,

these startling moment of now, relived.

After all, I may be x,

but can’t an unknown be worried?


I dream of times, all over the ages

but hidden from view, and locked away in pages…

I dream of those magical times

when fairies flit freely and goblins- in hatred- rattled their cages.

I dream of a day when all this may be true,

but it already may have been, and

I’m just too late.

I dream of it daily, day in and day out:

All I really want is for the world to be alive again,

bursting with magic, not fraying at the seams.

But it seems that all I can do is dream, as

I chase after the imaginary and the fantastical,

the beautiful and the broken,

even as I believe in evidence.


Finally, eventually,

I may know, I may realize.

I don’t have to be Somebody.

I don’t have to solve for x and determine y.

I am x, an infinity of possibility.

And I am Nobody. Who are you?

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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