This is a bad bad post. Stuck in my mind for more that two days, hence I guessed it will be a real sucker.
Please send all your hate mails (if you happen to read this)here.
Title - Am I me ?
I long for that horizon,
that is not mine, that cannot be mine.
I long for that sense of me
which finds me everyday, in the dark alleys of my mind,
which betrays me everyday;
for I exist, I conclude,
in a farce; in a Truman's show;
He asks "Who are you?"
" I am that hope which will not emerge"
" I am that purpose which is never fulfilled"
" I am that dream, which is meant to be broken"
" I am that war where needs massacre wants"
" I am that void, that canvas, in my soul
that wants to be freed, from
that wants to be coloured, not in
the monotony that is me"
" I am that yesterday, where winds of change lead to"
" I AM the sisyphus"
He is disgusted for I ask him
"What have you made of me"
" You are the victory of grotesque choices over nascent volition"
" I should not seek that horizon,
I should not see that image which is me, for
they are lost, squandered, in the silhouette of my past"
I console myself, for
what I do, what I will do, become
the horizon, the dazzle of new found hope, the dream, the compromise of realising
a true me,
and a new me.