A Something

From childhood's hour I haven't been as others were
Consumed by darkness - young Edgar Alan Poe
The northern winds would cast me back and forth
As I would grow - my sinuous, tangled youth

And as the orchids bloom and wither out again
I've been pretending I'm not the one I am
The morning mask alternating the face
Of shame, anxieties and hate, but love and hope
They'd say I'm hollow
Well, I guess it is the mask

I could just take it off, but would you then enjoy the view
Of storm and darkness and the snakes' croon?
Or better watch the pale face
No words to say, but words've been left
Hidden in the deepest of the chest and resonating into your brain
What does it mean what all these people tell?
What is this "sane" and "right" and "wrong"?
Do they know really how to feel?
Something the schools have never taught...
More like prescribed what's "right" and "wrong"
And what is "sane" and who'll be loved

Take off the mask, put on a role
Look at the screen
All the same body, flesh and bones
Is that new me?
I wish I'd be it, just anything, but me
A something, I'm a ghost

I'm the late hour of the day, it beats an pours
I'm the words you left unsaid
Desire to stay, a wish of death
The sleepless nights, the days before
A life somewhere between the ceiling and the floor
The present absence
Reminiscing of the times, that were ignored
And fear of what comes tomorrow
I'm never here, in this moment

But if you ask me who I am
I guess, if I would know, i wouldn't be myself