Why is it that I hide?
This, I do not know.
But for reasons undecided,
my face I do not show.
I hide behind the words I write
More than the name I bear,
For what's a name but reference?
Something to be shared.
But despite minute importance
In exactly how I'm known,
My name is still another mask
Upon my false king's throne.
And people ask "Who are you?"
As if they want to know.
What they want is my name
Though a name does not show.
A name does not reveal the truth
In one's identity
A name simply puts on display
A title for all to see.
A title I wear simply,
Though "title" sounds perverse,
For if I hide 'twixt fear and pride
Honor goes unrehearsed.
This isn't to say at all
That the truth I don't reveal.
It's exclusively the physical
I keep from you concealed.
You know me just as well
As you would an open book.
All you have to do to learn
Is simply take a look.
So ask again, "Who are you?"
I'll say, "You already know."
Through the tears I've shed and the words I've bled,
My honest self I've shown.
For those unaware, I write under a pseudonym. Sometimes I question whether or not I'm hiding behind it to separate the truth of my feelings from the reality of every day life.
I hope that's not the case.
Sometimes the false identity is shameful, as if I can't come to terms with my own problems. Other times the distance is exactly what helps me come to terms. It's a very delicate balance.
I find the title very fitting.
Keep writing,
-Sam Ciel.
©Sam Ciel
