Who are you?
The question is asked and a crisis begins.
They wait as if I'll answer on cue,
but my mind swirls with answers, both many and few.
Who am I inside?
I ponder the question, but no answer is found.
Perhaps it would be easier if I simply lied,
but then I would have taken society's side.
How can I answer a question so unclear?
A name is what most seem to want
Yet wanting a title seems so queer
As it leaves the person with existance based fear.
If I am not a name, then who am I?
Am I a writer, a woman, a dreamer, or an artist?
Or am I as undefinable as the sky?
The question remains; who am I?