Lovingly I etch my name

And watch the waves

Wash it away.

Such is existence;

Pain-stakingly made

And carelessly ended.

Time marches impassively on

Trampling cold caskets beneath its feet

Snuffing the last sparks out.

Some etch their name over and over again

Hoping they will last

After they are washed away.

The names fade

The memories dull

The meaninglessness continues.

Who will remember those

Whose names are no longer visible?

Who will bring

The flowers to their graves?

Who will notice the departed

When everyone is carving their own name?

If I were me

I might make an effort.

I am not myself

Just a parrot turned human

Made to mimic those around me.

I have no distinct personality

Merely a mishmosh

Stolen from all I know

A theft

Which comes at a terrible price.

I have no identity.

With only stereotypes to mold myself on

I am dull

And attract more

Who foolishly think me interesting.

I want to scream,

“Can’t you see the shapes?

The puzzles? The pieces?

The jumbled jangled jargled mess

That isn’t even me?

The patchwork quilt of personalities I’ve stolen

Whose seams are splitting?

CAN’T YOU SEE I DON’T KNOW WHO I AM?”

But of course, I can’t.

I wait in silence,

Wondering how to find me

As my false front deceives others

And myself.

I am only reminded

That I am not who I present myself to be

By an inexplicable sadness

Which hovers inside

And lingers long after my thoughts.

Oh, to be someone

And know who I am!

Oh, to have a purpose

And find meaning in life!

Oh, to “oh!”

Just from pure joy!

Oh, to never heave a sigh again…

Oh…

Perhaps my problem

Is that I carve my name in sand

Where no one can find it.