WHO AM I?

 

Flooded with questions

In my thoughts

With no answers

In my submersion

Who am I really?

A poet of inspiration

Or aspersion?

Because I’m filled with

Both hope and hate

Or am I just shaped by their merging?

Hope and hate

Equal forces just shaped

In different versions

How am I am a combination of opposites

A being of both morals and perversions

How can I know who I am?

If I’m always in the midst of conversions

Being in between

And at the seams

Between restarts

And reversions

So why the aversion?

I question inwardly

But I seem to be drowning

Deeply…

In the question

I guess I’m just a person

Shaped by experiences

And diversions,

Little wonder

I feel like a different person

I am an in-between

In a immersion

I’m who I was

I was who I’ll be

And if I never find out

Who I really am

May be it’s because

I’ve left you all my self inversions