Who Am I?

12.01

Who am I?

Can you really ask who I am?

Because I really don't even know myself.

All of you,

don't even know each other.

You're all repeating mirrors,

like a fun house maze,

with no beginning or end.

I appear to you as simple,

pretty face with a tasteful disposition.

I'm a full bag of marbled items,

fantasies, dreams and endless wishes.

I'm a twilight sky,

with a couple of burned out stars.

I'm a faded smile,

that masks a heavy heart.

I'm bound to reality by chains,

But I'm desperately longing to spread my wings.

So you see,

I'm not all that easy to be defined,

especially by one question.

So how can you ask me who am I?