We Are Not Who We Are

We are not who we are Filled with worries, woes and moans, the drowned ship drenched to bones A dying soul succumbed to wounds, in a forest with a fear for hounds We are not who we are Passers of a tunnel, at the end of which there is a light Not bright enough, but enough to beat the night A creature without wings, with the fire of taking flight. We are not who we are Shinier than shine and taller than skies Taming every conquest with a hell of a might. Difficult to be seen, the brightest bright. So O dear mine We are not who we are We are what we choose, to be that is really who we are.