Who am I?
Who do you want me to be?
I'll paint my face, cover
every inch with layers of
new because old's no
good. Of course you'll
never know.

There's no truth, no
sound or smile escaping my shell
which could tell you anything
true.

Is anything real?
We'll dance in costumes of
silver and gold and
never know a thing.
I'll give you my name,
splatter some words.
on a page or in the air,
what's the difference?

What does it tell?
You'll take the stage for
an hour or so,
give me your name which
wasn't your choice and
I'll judge you for all
you allow me to know.

Year after year we'll
talk about our day.
I'll cry in your arms.
You'll  tell me something
you've never told
anyone before.
     You'll study my every
inch and I yours
and we'll give all that
we can offer
     but never
   all that we own.

We could spend centuries
together but our
ever-changing souls
will never, ever know
any truth
as we know
ourselves.

We are blind,
always.