Black or white.

Mocking eyes

Dissect me.

Try to decide

Who I am

Try to decipher

My meaning.

My surface is a

Disorganized,

Tangled

Fusion.

Sometimes,

It is liberating

To be a conglomerate

Without shackles

That a single world creates.

It is also

An unattainable balance.

A balance that

Wobbles,

Collapses.

Wandering,

Stumbling

Through a whirling grey cloud

With pieces of my identity caught in a whirlwind,

Scraping me.

I try to grab them

To assemble an intricate tapestry.

They always escape me.

Now I realize,

My cloud is

Clarity,

Transparency.

My cloud is

Revealing,

Dazzling.

Evoking pride

In my identity.

Black and white.