space between two lines

Conflict causes crazy

crisis, confuses me

until I'm numb.

Don't know what

I desire, asking the

question, "who am I, really?"

because I really want to know.

People's perceptions poke

at my perspective, now

I'm just even more

stressed to find

an answer, for whom

I don't know. Me,

I need the answer,

don't like the

effects of the

words of my

younger self, confining

me to the tiny

little space between

two lines, demanding

that I like this and this

but not that. Try

to drown out

the deathly dialogue,

doesn't do a damn

thing, don't know

how to feel, who

to be. Not the

same as I was

back then but

younger me doesn't

realize it. So

here I am still

asking the same

question of "who am I, really?"

because I really don't know.