At night, I drifted into sleep,
wishing the dawn would find me as someone else,  
A stranger in a skin I’d never worn,
untangled from the knots of who I am,  
Free from the weight of names
and shadows that cling like second skin,  
Dreaming of being nothing more
than a fleeting whisper on the wind.  
I longed to vanish into silence,
where my thoughts could lose their shape,  
To be the face forgotten in the crowd,
untouched by time or fate.  
But sleep never comes with mercy,
and in the morning light I rise,  
Still bound within the prison
of my own familiar eyes.