By day, a face to meet the crowd,
steady hands, measured words,
a mask of quiet balance.
By night, the shadow shifts,
another self emerges,
wild, untamed, electric.
Two lives stitched by the same skin,
pulling at the seams,
each yearning for the other's quiet or fire.
Who am I,
but both,
and neither?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem