What am I?
What should I let define me?
Do i stand for a cause?
Am I polite or am I crass?
Am I queen or of a poor class?
Do I wear pants or do I wear a dress?

In the brackets of conventions,
Lacking enthusiasm and convictions,
I soon started losing myself,
In the sea of confusions.

As i grew, these bracket grew larger,
"Atheism is not a choice, go meet a minister"
The end of the tunnel looked brighter from afar
the journey is what made me a sadist and a sinister

Part of a big propaganda is what i became
oblivious of what had happened and what was to come
little beads of joy, yes I did collect them
only to lose, oh boy ! what a shame
Its all a scam, the rebel shouted
I should have stopped my journey and got myself in his team recruited

It was not a journey it was but a race
"hahaha eternal optimist?", the darkness laughed at my face
the shadows grabbed everything I had
they were my friends I thought, "like my mom and dad"

oh the days have gone by
and here I sit sad and shy
identity was lost in the tunnel of sea with weeds dry
all is lost I weep and cry
what am I?
what should I let define me?
Is it the shady past of which I was only a participant
or should it be my future of which I am ignorant?