Being once open and vulnerable,
I was susceptible to both inspiration and destruction.
But since becoming externally stronger,
To both my self and my intuition, I am now a complete stranger.
While inflating my egos,
I had also inflated my masks.
While concealing my wounds,
I had also concealed my hurts.
As I seeked more roles,
I neglected my responsibilities.
As I seeked more respect,
I neglected my relations.
Although I seem to have exchanged cowardice for confidence,
I haven't yet felt more cowardly.
Although I seem to have exchanged intelligence for obedience,
I haven't yet been less intelligent.
In striving to groom myself for others' love,
I lost my love for love.
In striving to sensitize myself to others' sensations,
I lost my sensitivity to life's sensations.
I have now become a victim of people and predicaments,
Notably more destructive, and even less inspired.
I have now become a numb subject of a senseless society,
Bound by judgments and stringed by expectations.
What I have since gained is a reputation, &
The pseudo love of a billion strangers.
What I have since lost is a sense of reality, &
The rawness of an unadulterated authenticity.
Among the strangers, I hope, would be one,
Who would help bring back the real me.
Among the strangers, I hope, would be one,
Who would thus help complete my eulogy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem