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.