I see myself through a haze,
indistinct, a warped projection.
As if I'm staring into a pool
disturbed by a skipping stone.
Or in a shiny metal mirror,
cracked and tarnished with age.
Or in a fog, obscured.
I only see myself
Through smoke, a lonely outline,
or at night a mere shadow.
I am unsure of who I am
when I look inside myself.
I can only be sure that
whatever emotion I have
can be masked by indifference.
Each sorrowful stab, disguised.
Every painfully memory cast aside.
My identity continues to elude me.
Who I am, Who am I?
