Who am I?
Over and over again
A mantra in its own right
With no right to be.
Β
Who am I?
Not the teenaged questioning;
The great self-examination
Buzzing with the fascination
Of Ego-centricity.
Β
Instead: genuine bafflementβ
Itβs all wrong; I donβt fit.
Who the hell am I?
My perception of reality is dented.
Β
Who am I?
What am I doing here?
Is the βmeβ who exists in othersβ eyes
Anything like the me I see?
Β
Iβve said something stupid again
(Iβm not stupid)
Iβve done something thoughtless again
(Compassion dying)
Β
Iβve tripped and Iβve fallen again
(Am I clumsy?)
Iβve forgotten my next task again
(Whatβs wrong with my mind?)
Β
My best traits are intelligence (failing)
Wit (vanished), kindness (withered)
Determination (fleeting) and (no) social graceβ
Does any of it show?
Β
The things I say and the things I do
Seem to have nothing to do with
Who I am.
And yet, in that caseβ
Β
Who am I?
