Grey haired lady
in the middle of the floor
Questions that ask nothing
other than to prolong silence
the walls bleached white with cold hatred
Burn the brain with fake light
did we invent the right angle
or did we just exploit what has always existed
Have we figured out who and what we are
or have we lied about what we aren’t
I’m a little boy without a *****
I haven’t been myself all my life
My identity is what I have when nothing else is left
Don’t tell me who I am!