Why am I not who I believe I am?
Who hides behind this face, this fragile frame?
Am I the silence, or the storm within?
A fading truth beneath a borrowed skin?
I chase myself through mirrors in the night,
Yet every shadow steals a piece of light.
If I am lost, then who is searching through?
And if I'm not myself, then who are you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem