I Am Not What I Am

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.