Mirror on the wall , what do I see
its an identity crisis
for how long can one fight this?
one mask after another , me and many disguises
A demon to one , an angel to another
a heart breaker to some, yet still the pride of my mother
if only they knew how imperfect one is probably the trust and belief will be minimal
These days it gets harder to keep up with many sides of me
the question is " who am I " not , " what do I pretend to be "
If unveiled, would perceptions wane,
Or understanding, empathy regain?
For within these layers, so intricately spun,
Lies the essence of a soul yet unsung
In the labyrinth of identities, a quest to reclaim,
A journey inward, where authenticity aims.
For it's not in pretense or the masks we wear,
But in embracing flaws, authenticity we declare