When I look to the mental images of my identity,
It appalls me that there are multiple, nevertheless ranging in a duality
A spectrum of positive and negative as society shaped in us
Morality bringing forward a judgement of the images and giving it impetus
When these scions of public perceptions emerge in a young adult,
There is a search for the solution to all of one’s “faults”.
But ascertaining whether something is a fault or not is a challenge in itself,
Bringing out the critic and the resentment one aims at oneself
Focusing these aspects to discriminate between ‘good’ and ‘bad’
I soon start to question the scale of measurement that I have had
Borrowed from the social world with limitless personalities
Differing cultures and diverse nationalities
They speak of the duality but differ in their classifications
Of morality, goodness, evil and moral actions.
These thoughts bring me to a daze
Confusion erupting and driving me to a craze
Madness of analysis, dissection of thoughts,
Raising the dead to scrutinize and birthing that which is yet not.
Intellectual violence ensues, self-doubt on a killing spree
Stabbing and wounding every single aspect of my identity
Fighting a defenseless thing, I revel in my victory
but soon come to realize, that which I hurt was nothing else but me
The real me in this present moment, while the past and future images are nothing but apparitions,
Creations of public perception that have become my inhibitions
While my real self takes the blows that I deliver unhinged
hurting as if its skin was flayed and singed
When the stupidity of my act becomes apparent to me
It is too late, as I have already done the deed.
The illusions fade away, but as days and nights pass
They soon return, with a renewed battle pass
Luring the blade of my intellect once again
Sharper than a sword, mightier than a pen
I repeat the hacking process
chopping the self to bits with finesse
Then once again I realize the mistake I made
Moving on to a better start and sheathing the blade
The resentment and hate subside, but they don’t die
Because as long as the illusions resurface, herein will my regenerated yet dead self lie
The solution? I search for it every single time
But my inability to distinguish truth from lies debilitates me each time
The madness returns from time to time
Because sanity is an elusive goal for now, and has been for a while.
Pursuit of Something 