Torn. Conflicted. Divided.
A different mask for each place,
A different version for each face,
How can a person have so many sides?
It's not possible, unnatural,
But it's what you do to cope, to survive.
Opposites. Uncommon. Contrasts.
A different person for each occupation.
A different you for each situation,
How can you play each part so well?
It's become effortless, so unhealthy,
But you can continue projecting the lie, running from the truth.
Missing. Hidden. Lost.
Countless copies for each and every time,
Dozens of duplicates for every good deed and crime,
How can you not foresee the danger?
It must be hard not to lose yourself, yes yourself,
But you keep splitting, fragmenting, spreading, further damaging.
Hope. Backpedal. Realize.
The same self for everyone you've met,
The real you is what people see and what they get,
How could you not always be comfortable in your own skin?
Sure there is room for improvement, everyone has flaws,
But this self's all you've got to give, the original, and the best yet.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Me, Myself and I
PoetryDo you ever feel like you have to wear a virtual 'mask' because you're embarrassed or afraid to reveal who you truly are, be yourself? Do you consciously project different version of yourself to different people in different situations. ever asked y...
