We label ourselves
what we think we are
but we live in a world of
broken
mirrors.
I am not who you say I am
but I am not who I say
I am either.

How do we endure this
life
long
question
of who we are?
We don't.
We die wondering
what we were
and never truly know
how beautiful we were because
everything
is more beautiful when it
dies.
It passes and we put on
rose
colored
glasses
and the whole thing was a
happy
accident.

We are cursed with
self-awareness
and hope it is our savior
when it is truly our
devil.

We cannot count on something that
changes as the wind.

Knowledge
is what we
hunger for
but it is also our
downfall,
our poison,
our ******
most
foul.

We can only pray
to whatever higher being there may be
that there is some sort of
purpose
in life.
Something to live for.
Something for our
selfish
minds
and
flesh.