We that is Me

I was not born to live

I am but a canvas

Made into many things 

All acting as they demand us

So it has always been

For the we that is me

Switching day-to-day

Changing how we are seen

A girl of silence, an artist of passion

A passive thing, overflowing with sadness

Lowering my head, as I raise my contempt

A subservient smile, hiding my malice

Am I hollow? Plastic?

Who really knows us?

These faces I wear

All fill me with disgust

Yet I can’t remember anymore

What lies underneath

What it is to be true

What it is to be complete