“Who am I?
I ask myself on nights like these,
I find that I do not know.
All my life I have been someone for someone else.
I fear that I no longer have an identity of my own.
Father for some,
lover to others
all these and so many more.
As I look inside myself,
I find all of these people and more.
People I do not know.
Are these people me?
a piece of me
but I have lost who I truly am.
It's very hard to look in the mirror and not know the man looking back.
So lost, so afraid,
'am I crazy or insane?'
Who am I?
I know how the teenage whore feels
I have in a sense been one myself.
They sell themselves for money,
being someone else for their customers,
Have I not done that my whole life?
The only difference being form of payment...
For them money;
For me love,
Oh merciful fate, who am I?
Show me at least a small piece of who I am. Surely, not a whore. Surely you, fate, must know me.
Anger, fear, sadness.. well up inside of me. I flow over with the terrible feeling of being lost. As I wander the streets, I look around at people so secure in who they are.
Oh, how I yearn to know the peace of those blessed people.
As they look at me, they see an image of what it is to be lost – like a small child calling for mother.
If you listen closely, you can hear my soul crying to be found. A single child's voice lost in a storm of voices – so dark, so scared, so alone.
Where is my life, who am I?
Do you know me? Am I you?
I just don't know.
Layer upon layer,
persona after persona,
Still no closer to who I really am.
get up and run on.
but afraid to stop searching.
Will I be lost forever?
I ask you,
Who am I, really?
I ask you,
Who do you want me to be?”