This poem is a continuation of "Identity" 

 So I am not a single entity.

I'm a conglomerate of diff'rent states.

Like Patrick Bateman, I'm illusory.

I merely am the sum of all my traits.


But people always change as they grow old

What once they loved may cease to be so dear.

The things they cherished thoughtlessly are sold,

Without the shedding of a single tear.


If we have many personalities

which, over time, can ebb and fade away,

then are these persons not fatalities?

And is their passing from this world okay?


I die as time goes by, but do not cry.

Sometimes I think that I might be the sky.




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