I Am Not What I Am
"Hear the voice of my pen tremble..."
I am not what I am; I am what I am not.
Hear the voice of my pen tremble
At the sound of these undeniable words.
I sit at my desk. I recall their vicious laughter,
My laughter, the way I grinned triumphantly
At doing what I knew to be wrong—but done all the same.
My thoughts and my life are stolen by a thief
Who knows nothing but lies, deceit, and placed in my heart
As a script to be followed by an actress of mediocre talent.
I play the world’s game with loaded dice,
Every move dictated by the rolling, loaded dice of others.
I am a rough reflection of those around me.
I am everyone, I am someone, I am no one, but never am I me.
I can taste the irony. Bitter, they say, but not for me.
It is sweet and delicious, crashing against my tongue
With the flavors of a useless victory.
In the mirror, a stranger, my smile is fraud.
I am not what I am; I am what I am not.
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