Who Am I?

I am who I am. The product of a militant love bathed in youth. Filled with curiosity and a lust for knowledge. Drowned in the strange and macabre parts of life. Reborn in the murky waters of a hidden river. Raised in a strange and foreign land. Blinded by the black light of a blue moon. Fallen like a rare and luminous comet. Risen like a phoenix out of the ash. Gripped by hours of insomnia laden visions, Of other beasts with similar afflictions. Dreams of a morbid love for deathly desire. Enchanted in the scripture engraved on the smoky sky. Cloaked in mysterious memories of unknown origins, But of whose remnants are shown in everyday life. Cursed with hidden blessings not yet found. But all in all, I am, as all humans are, a paradox. And just as this poem is filled with both truth and lies, The trick is to find what you think is right. Because we are all filled with questions, But with none more obscure Than who am I?