It comes to me that I
don’t truly know who I am.

Some call me brilliant,
lovely, bright, and beautiful ,Others call me idiotic ,
depressing, selfish.

I don’t know my name,
shaped and molded by the perceptions of others.
Who am I?

Lying awake at the peak of dawn,
I ask myself—
what’s my favorite color? My hobbies? My favorite food?
Nothing.

I don’t know who I am.

Am I the cool breeze that lingers in the August heat?
Am I the rivers that flow through the soil and greens?
Am I the rain—crying the sky’s tears,
consoling those who weep?
Am I the moon—adored in private, unseen by day?

Or maybe…

I’m the earthquake that shatters hearts and souls.
Maybe I’m the tornado that destroys as it goes.
Maybe I’m the villain in this story,
while someone else— is the hero.

I don’t know.
I don’t know who I am.
Perhaps I never will.

I only see myself through others’ eyes, never my own.
My own mind—
a war zone.
With My heart and mind, forever at war.

I don’t know who I am.
Perhaps, I never will-
Lost in echoes of voices— not my own.