I will probably never know. Am I what my physical form takes? Am I energy? Am I the one of the many forms the creator takes to experience what mortality is and how creation works under limited ability of the finite? Am I the black person everyone sees? Am I the woman society wants to force me to be under the many ideologies of what being a woman is supposed to mean? Am I the discontent psychopath muttering along findings musings in overplayed scenarios called the human experience? How do you explain who you are to people who wouldn't believe you anyway, argue that they know you better than yourself, or have some box they can't see you escape from or fathom that you were never in in the first place? Who can even have the sight to see me for who I am even after a simple explanation if they deny everything that goes against their world view? just say that I am a being, a spirit masquerading as human learning social cues to fit in.

Poem de Elizabeth Fields
"Dark side of Shen: poetry collection. "
© Elizabeth Fields