Who Am I? Poem by Steven Rowe

As I walk around what I call my place
I see a world created,
Disregarding time and space.

That which I knew,
I thought underlies truth.

I find myself somewhere foreign,
yet, where I am I am not certain.
This land of misfortune,
a world of disdain.

I know not a place of luxury,
nor a place of perfection.
The innate inequality that lacks affection.
It's like living with a persistent infection.

As I look in the mirror,
my view of myself gets far from clearer.
It is okay though.
The person is not myself in the mirror.

His menacing stare, deep into my eyes,
He tells me who I am is a surprise.
For, until I see him for who he is
I will see myself like this.

But, that makes me ask the questions:
What do I see?
Is this truly me?

Forever, I have tried to know.
To know what it means to be.
To break away from these shackles and be free.