You can call me by my name
But still you don’t know me
You can say something about me
But still not a guarantee you know me
You can make a sketch of my face
But not the whole of me
My friend I am is not what you see
All the time things do change
My friend the voice you heard from me
Are temporary they will fade away
My friend the true “me” is simply-
The person you can love even if
I am not who I was
Because self identity is to be free
From judgment and slavery
From the “person” created for me
Because of my name and fame
Because of my title and possession
I was put in a box cannot moved
That set me away from the real me
You know the real me is the “man”
Not perfect but willing
to grow up under the sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem