Poems

Who Am I?

I, do not know, who I am, among these peers of mine.

I, am presumed to be many people I want to be, but cannot fully.

Trapped in a big room,

Filled with the noise of silence.

But, who am I,

I ask myself, looking in my reflection of the tall, broken mirror,

My green glistening eyes,

Staring back at me.

My disguise, is my escape,

That I put on everyday to others, and myself,

So I am not causing anger,

Sadness, distress,

Or pure hatred, towards me.

For that, is what I fear most.

But, in this universe upon many more,

I am just a damaged infant, a speck of an atom,

In this humongous place,

Filled with clocks with cheap band-aids covering them,

Ticking, slowly and painfully.

Over the course of my existence,

I realize that my significant insignificance,

Lasts forever,

Or no time at all.

Now, I ask again.

Who am I?

As I look back with red in my cheeks,

The bloodshot in my eyes,

The streaming black and clear tears, covering me, and exposing me,

I still, don't have a particular clue.

But, never minded from my thoughts,

Feelings and persona,

I am just an aging clock,

With a few cheap band-aids,

That can hopefully be fixed.

I, am me.

I am so far at this point.

Knowing my existence and my name, as who I am.

But, I still am not sure, who that is, quite yet.

Hopefully, I can find out, in no time at all,

But would not mind, forever of a journey.