SELF IN FLUX

confusion wracks my brain and

fills me with remorse for the

things I’ve done and said

and I may never have a firm grasp

on this self-centered identity

where I am me but different to each

voice that comes out of me

and spouting off is all I’m ever good at

I’m pleading for a chance at me

struggling each day each moment

every second of my life

since I was torn from innocence

and then cast aside

so what am I but an amalgamate of

reflections shimmering

I’m filled to the top a glass half empty

but never knowing what I’ll be

so wake me up each morning

to a different face a different tone

my cadence is an ever shifting

drifting body sifting I’m shown

a way to be a way to make it all make sense

but what will be will be

and the face I lay bare makes no

difference

038

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