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I am so many persons, but

there’s always just this one,

and I have many faces though

the mirror gives me none.

The further that I travel from

this wretched status quo,

the faster I return to be

the person that I know.

I cannot change! I’m stuck with traits

that always reevolve,

and when I try to see myself,

the image just dissolves.

I’m organized as fluid points

set arbitrarily.

I’m characters combined to form

a shapeless entity.

The emptiness, it pulls me in,

it bites and beats and screams,

’cause what I know is not what is

and nothing’s like it seems.

I cry to you: "Who am I then,

who catches light this way?!

For am I just a fraction of

a passing solar ray?

Or am I more a hapless shape

of energy delayed?

Or did I happen as I am,

yes, was I even made?

You wear your best expressions while

I ponder in dismay,

and all you can is smile and shrug

’cause what is there to say?