who am i?

I don’t know who i am anymore,

I feel like i’ve got a shop full of masks

Neatly arranged inside my head,

So i can easily pick out the right one.

I feel like i’m wrapped in layers and layers of different fabric;

Each hand crafted to suit someone else.

But i’m almost suffocating,

I can’t breathe.

And i’m scared that when fabric is unravelled,

There’s nothing left but dust.

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