You tried so hard not to disappoint everyone
that you ended up disappointing yourself.
You’ve never committed a crime but there’s
so much blood on your hands.
You are responsible for so many deaths because
everything you could be is slowly disappearing
into oblivion.
Everyone can see you,
But you don’t have the faintest idea who you are.
There are a thousand faces and personalities
you killed in order to turn yourself into a puzzle piece
that would perfectly fit into some narrative.
The prize was an empty cup,
a chalice that now gathers dust.
At the end of the tunnel, there was another one.
You never saw the light.
This poem is from my new poetry book “Identity crisis” which you can get on Amazon: Identity crisis
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