A poem
Adrift in a sea of faces,
each one expecting, assuming, projecting.
Who am I but a blank canvas in their eyes?
A kaleidoscope of personas presented,
fragmented mirrors of my translucent self,
a chameleon in your garden of definitions
ever-shifting, defying delineation.
In isolation, I persevere,
shedding skins, molting masks
layer by layer.
Withdrawing into my chrysalis once more,
I’ll emerge in a form
you cannot categorize.
A glimmering glimpse
of my essence at this moment,
already fading back into the nameless mist.
You cannot grasp me,
I’m not yours to know.
My identity is mine alone.