Who am I?
Am I the what I do
Am I the what I see
Am I the way I talk
Am I the way I seem
Am I what I want to be?
What am I defined by in this world full of mystery
They define you as different than them
As a disaster  
A bomb going to explode
A me going to implode
Who’s going to hold you when you finally get to old for them to know
Your all alone
They define you with things from the outside not knowing what lies on the inside
They look repulsed at the things that they see not knowing they there things they created
You’ve been made to there design
Yet your still too much for them to handle so they place you just far enough away so they can’t hear you but you can hear them
You become so suffocated with all these things and words to the point where even when surrounded by millions you feel alone
Your in a hole
A dark place and you can’t see
Where do I go?
Who am I?
All I want in life is to be defined for something other than the mess that I am
The mess that has been specifically fitted to me