Who Am I ?

I knew I wasn't pretty and so
a melancholic lie was born.
It's deadly and unstoppable, an
illusion that I chose to make it my reality.

For searching for veracity is a
beautiful lie to myself and maybe leading to a tragic end.

It started to grow in me and it soon became me, and without it I didn't
know who I was anymore. Frozen in
time, I'm bounded in my own fears
and insecurities.

Envious of the sparkling world, lying became my religion and as the cynic
in me tried to embrace nihilism my lost motive awoke

and the main question that remains forever
"What's real anyway ?"