Song of Myself

What can I say,
In this song of myself?
My clothes, my appearance
Tell nothing of me.

Created and forged
To others’ ideas.
A mirror to reflect
What’s already there.

A redundancy
No longer needed
Nor wanted here.
Who am I?

My eyes will not
Tell a thing of me.
Hiding behind
This thick mask.

My eyes tell not
A thing of my past.
These deadened things
In the middle of my head.

My attitude
Speaks volumes of me.
Sarcastic and hurt,
Standing strong on my own.

What can I say?
The attitude, the bravado
The falseness of it all
This is the song of myself.

Yet my views
Are my own.
Whole and original
My mind is untouched.

Untouched by these others
That I emulate.
My mind is truly
The song of myself.