Who am I?

Who am I?

I am made of many masks.

Each stacked up upon the other.

They have a mind of their own
And I sit back and watch my life take place before me.

Who am I?

Am I a psychopath?

They say that psychopaths create themselves according to the world around them.
They are unable to feel, but feel only what they create according to their world.

I live a life
Based off not emotion,
But what the world around me dictates what I should feel.

I am a slave to reality.

Every joy I have felt has been felt because I should have felt it,
Not because I wanted to.

These masks that consume me are created off the basis of society.

I sat in pre school and looked at the crying children around me.

I let tears stream down my cheeks and as I was asked why I was crying
I felt nothing.

I am a puppet to society
Finally realizing that every movement is not my own.

How to I break these frail strings that bind me
When I don't even know what my face truly looks like.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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