But we are not our own any more
other selves live within us
deviously shaping our psyche
bit by bit, surreptitiously too
(but we are unaware)
like unwelcome weeds
that invade the greenness
of our lush inner field
and devour the flowers therein
like a blanket of dark clouds
shutting away the light
that once was solely our own
like a slow-acting virus
eating into our system
we wake up one day
to discover we have become
a hybrid self
no longer authentic
but synthetic -
our thoughts are not our own
we are the voice of other selves
their language we echo
like well-trained domestic parrots

what are we then
without our-ness
our oneness
our right to being?