I am not who i am;

          I am not who You see;        

because You do not.

{You craft and mold,

merely to forget and undermine}

 

and You hear not.

{my tongue is bridled,

the air is silent;

i swallow my thoughts

like piling confetti}

 

so i will move

to an abode that

has no shadows

or memories

 

My brain will no longer

be mute;

My name will be Nouveau

and I will be joyful

 

I will serenade

while Many carol

in harmonious contentment

 

in a room full of others

I will be utterly anxious

and will express opinion anyway

 

I will smell of

controlled sarcastic wit

though I may ne’er cause a smirk

 

I will wander aimlessly

for hours

in a landscape of beauty

 

and when Someone comes along

asking, “are you lost?”

I will shake my head

and introduce Myself

 

I will not assume

or guess the motives of Another

for Their heart channels to Their mouth –

not to My brain

 

My callused feet will trip

and I will take hold of a ledge

never to plummet and brood

 

I will work to grow

like a tree root being watered

into a large, shady oak tree

 

then I will shade You

from the demands of reality

and the presupposed notions

of who you think You should be

 

I will love You

despite Your indifference,

though you may never realize so.

 

 

I will be…

{perhaps I  am}

But You do not know.

You do not see.