If you were asked
to tell who you are,
what would you say?
Not who you've made yourself into,
but under all the pretenses you've taken on,
beyond the emotions you've worn like a mask.
Or rather, who were you?
Before you were influenced,
before the world reached your fragile mind,
before the cracks in your soul told the story of who you've become.
Who are you?
Is who you always thought you were,
just an intricately woven tapestry?
The product of a master seamstress
carefully constructing the fibers
that comprise your mind.
Because though you can rip out the threads,
the shadows of those stitches remain,
shaping and molding your malleable mind
to cultivate the finished artistry
displayed in the gallery dubbed life.
Who would you see
when you removed your layers?
Strip them away, tear flesh from bone
'till the vulnerable skeleton that lies below
can tell the story of who hides behind your walls.
The person, untouched by
the pressure of society,
who is the foundation for everything
the world has built.
You don't know who you are,
because the imposter you call your authentic self
only holds echoes of the person you are inside.
The person that's been suppressed,
pushed down, and concealed so thoroughly
that it's only natural to ignore.
The you that you've come to know
is but a product of the world,
on display in a gallery, fighting to remain relevant
in a showcase of society's creations.
YOU ARE READING
As I Sleep
Poetrya variety of poems on a variety of topics a few are darker, a few are lighter, and a few are just somewhere in between
