Sunday, May 5

Poem: Identity

I have closets of skins
and rows of masks.
A body for every image
a face for every expression.

What kind of person
do you like?
I can be her
and many more.

Without them
I'm a dark mess of matter.
Skinless
shapeless
faceless
emotionless.

A person without an identity
easier to fit the mold.

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