I'm not sure who I am yet,
I'm sure where I'm going,
I don't know if I'll ever be,
Really truly me,
We spend our time inventing ourselves,
And i guess I'm just spare parts,
The way my mind thinks,
Music is my art,
A titles half the story,
A picture worth a thousand words,
I've spent my life regretting,
And feeling no self worth,
I've gotten sick and tired,
Of being sick and tired,
I've felt the way we all we feel,
At 3am alone.
I've started to stay on the internet,
Into wee hours of the morning,
Gathering scattered information.
I see my week,
A flashing blurr of distorted colors,
Emotions whirling everywhere,
Trailing one another,
I'm not sure where I'm going,
Or if you'll follow me,
I'm not sure of my roots,
If I was planted like a tree,
I haven't spent much time,
Inventing myself,
Not as much as wishing I was someone else,
But it is time to own up to,
The real and true me,
And maybe then I'll understand....

Who I'm supposed to be