Here's a poem that I wrote that elaborates on my older post, 'Fearfully and Wonderfully Made.' Hope you like it.
Tell me, what is personality?
It is just an idea of me,
Made up by friends, made up by foes.
But they could never truly know.
Who I really am—neither do I—
I’m made up, I’m just a lie.
I am concealed, like I have something to hide,
An empty vase with empty ideas inside,
I know what the world wants, so I do what they say,
The real me doesn’t matter to them, anyway.
I’ve gone in and I’ve fixed all of the previous defects,
And anything bad that the world might detect.
You might say, “be yourself,” well, I agree:
Who else can be other than me?
No one likes the original version, they never do;
So you have to be anyone other than you.
Don’t look at me that way, as if you don’t do it as well,
You’re made up of ideas, in other words, an empty shell—
You pretend too, you hide behind a pretense
In this harsh world, it’s our only defense.
Life is a game, you have to learn how to play,
You have to know what to do and what not to say
Like hide and seek, make-believe, or charades
Life’s just a game, a simple masquerade.