Trying to be someone is pointless,
Finding fame is useless,
Love is not ‘the answer’ as claimed,
Indeed, I ask you, answer to what?
Can you find words to describe life?
This is what I am trying to do.
By writing this poem I am trying to find,
In essence,
Myself.
Why I am here?
Pretending the be someone I’m not,
Listening to music I don’t like,
Just to empress?
Just to fit in?
I am me and no one can change that,
That is my constant chide to myself.
But can I fool myself?
Surrounded by suppressed emotions,
Can’t I leave this cycle?
Sometimes I wish I could read their minds,
Or else look through their eyes to see me,
As they see me,
That strange blonde girl,
Or someone, something, else?
Here I am, unable to take a leap of faith,
Here I am, two pages long,
Here I am, hiding under a cheap mask,
Why?
I do not know.