The Innermost Me

I am a false face. They think they know me. They don’t. They see only what I show them. Me. One of them. There are different me’s, different faces. I am a false person. I show what I think they want to see, Reflecting the perfect me. For them. I will show them what they expect, not what I am. What I am is only inside. No one knows about that me. Sometimes not even me. I see the me’s society sees, Not the ones I care about. Too ashamed to show. That’s what I am. Too afraid to show the me that’s on the inside, outside. They will judge. They can’t help it. It’s just their nature. To judge the oddities, the outcasts. So I wear a different face. Some elements of me. My loves, my hates. But not my expression. I’m an outcast here, too. But only because they forget me. Not because they judge me. It’s better this way. Maybe finally I will understand myself. All the me’s. Maybe they will all serve a different function for me. Me’s. Maybe I’m complete as I am. Or not. They all have a different answer, the me’s. The one that really matters, the innermost me, I cannot hear. I will listen until I do.