What am I


I am from cells, built together to make my mother’s uterus,

If I wasn’t supposed to come out, then how did I,

Should I have, or was this a plan of gods,

Is it my air to take in, or someone else, should I have stopped when I came out,

Is it a blessing, thus meant to be, or is it a curse that I came out of the wrong body of cells,

Does this encourage my faith, or diminish it,

One would say joy, but when I look back, it leaves to wonder,

Faith is a mystery, when I think I know, do I know,

How can I be sure, am I being tested, or is their simply no point,

There are 24 hours in a day,

1 is faith, 10 is sight, 5 is a new world, 8 is anything,

When will I be tested, how can I know, who can I trust,

Who am I, who is anyone, who is he or she or it,

Is it there, is it my mind playing tricks again,

Regardless, there are 24 hours in a day,

By others, I smile,

At homeland I work then cry, or cry then work,

Endless cycles of sorrow that fades the glimmers from the day,

Hinduism, Christianity, or neither,

Am I being tested again, who, when, were, and why, I think to myself,

Words and cells from homeland has inflated me into sorrow,

Outside that realm, I smile, does it mean I’m happy,

The answer is NO,

There is no point if there is no after, and if there is after, than why do I continue,

We only continue for the ifs,

Why do I put on a brave face every day, why do I put myself through such misery,

If God really exists, I wonder why he does this to me, why not a answer, instead of confusion,

It’s easier to not believe, and continue, but there will be an end, and at that point I will pray,

My mask covers what you see from me,

Are you seeing me, a servant, a prisoner, or are you seeing Himesh?

Expressed by: Himesh Bharatkumar Patel

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