Identity

I have become everything. Too much. Nothing at all

I feel as though I have died, a horror hung on a wall

I remember the strokes

The excitement filling my chest

I would soon realize

That was not for the best

I wanted to be something

Important

Beautiful

But the randomness that I have become

Is not that at all

The shapes that fill my body

Mean nothing perhaps

Pain

I feel it

Restricting like a chain

At least I used to speak

I called to those with the gift of listening

Now I cry invisible tears

Begging someone to see them glistening

As people walk past, none of them analyzing

I wish and hope

That I could be more mesmerizing

Maybe if I had been

A true scene on my own

But I

Am not

And I will never be someone’s home