identity

it's about identity and how everyone is trying to answer the question who am i.

my mother said i could be anything i wanted to be

as long as i don't waste dreams or live life to cautiously 

but the thing is i never knew what i wanted

i thought maybe i wanted to be an actor

i mean im good at playing parts

hiding behind mask after mask 

a character with all faces 

i am a master with no shame

i have been the outcast, invisible, ugly, that nerd 

leaving me with the question 

who am i?

it's something i've been considering 

tittles describe the content

and i'm a book without a cover

feeling like a faceless wanderer 

staring at myself in the mirror not recognizing the stranger staring back

but who am i?

the media tells us who we could be, who we should be, where we would be

trying to fit us into molds of skinny bodies and perfect complections

with empty promises that we soak up like sponges

still who am i?

i am a clown without make-up

i am an actor without props

nothing to hide behind

exposed

but i want to know who am i??

am i a face that lives without a name?

a unheard voice that becomes background noise destined to be lost by the voices of others?

so is anyone listening?

does anyone care?

is anybody even their?

it makes sense for somebody to listen if they want someone to listen to them

so why does this feel so one-sided?

im just looking for answers to my questions

i am just trying to understand

hoping society will quiet down 

and listen.

The End

2 comments about this poem Feed