i am a museum of my own creation.
the parts of myself exhibited to the public
are moulded, polished, photographed,
whilst the rest of me lays
dusty and forgotten.

how can anyone ever truly know me
when i am only
a moment, a picture, a fleeting idea
encapsulated as a whole?

but none of it is real.
and if it's all falsehood,
then what am I?