The man I am, nobody can see.
A forest of faces chases me
to make up the tale of my life.
I've always lived
in the image of those who look at me.
I belong to everyone's abstraction
and even I don't know the real nature of people;
I had a father and mother according to my creation,
and I have covered my loves and hatreds
with the disguises of my thought.
Sunday, April 28, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: dreams