“Who Am I?”

I am, who I am,
Whoever that is,
Whoever I was,
Whoever I become.

Others try to tell me
Who I am or should be,
I try not to listen to them,

Because in truth,
As to who I really am,
I don’t actually know,
At least for now I’m not,
One hundred percent sure.

Is there a Committie somewhere,
That directs such things?
Purveyors of personalities,
Dispensers’ of intelligence,
Measurers’ of ambition and success?
How to look, how to dress?
What is too fat,
What's too thin?

Perhaps some kind of scale,
To measure up,
Or down too?

Maybe there’s some magic formula,
When Mixed and taken,
Makes us who we “should” be?
But then, according to WHO?

As for all those other people,
Well meaning or not,
How can they possibly know more
About me, than I do?

I am a Work in progress,
Until I fail miserably,
Or until I’m dead,
Please have the decency,
To allow me, to be me,
And the time to find out.
'Cause frankly, all your
Premature pronouncements
Regarding me and who I am,
Is some really boring ****!

Who are we if not free?
Propagized by our parents, the media
Spoon-fed and indoctrinated,
No truth here just facts, manipulated and coerced,
We the idles of society, too afraid to stand out with our opinions,
Opinions of righteousness,
We deserve knowledge,
We crave for a free society,
But atlas do we deserve such an entity?
Wake up!
Too scared to speak, to scarce to form

He strode in a swarm of fireflies.
So full of himself and all his lies.
He was an evil man, a deceiver.
No else could see, he was the only believer.
A voice whispered, quiet at first.
The man thought it quenched his thirst.
It was enticing, this voice of dread.
But very soon his limbs felt like lead.
Slowly at first, then quickly he began to falter.
It was as if his body had begun to alter.
First a nudge, a slap, then a push.
Oh so quickly, he turned into mush.
Then as he began to melt into the drain.
He ceased to exist, overcome by the acid rain.