What Am I? Poem by Evan Skora

You see,
There are four sides to me,
But what you see,
Is one.

The other three sides,
Hidden from the world
Only known to me
Only known to those I let know.

These four sides become me,
For they are me,
Yet only a fourth of what I really am.
What am I?

I want the other three to be free,
To feel a sensation
To feel the fascination
That is to live.

I need direction to perfection,
A mold to the world,
An eye to see the sky,
Help to my helplessness.

My body is cold,
For without the other three
I am nothing
But a fly in the cold forest.

This body is empty,
My four souls mix inside
But this body lets one free.
What am I?