What Am I Or, Who Am I?

A bundle of lies

or, a bit of truth

what am I?

sometimes the dilemma

sits pretty on psyche

at times

it wears heavy on my mind

still groping...who am I?

Do I own what I am carrying with me?

the bones, the flesh and blood

above all the soul?

do I have to forfeit all these

when I am no longer breathing?

Would my own miss me

when I am gone?

or, my fate will be like

the mighty peak of the mountain

that grows smaller

the farther we move from its distinct territory?

Why do my cheeks flame with indignation

when my hands are filled with emptiness?

and my soul peeks through the window of my body

to palpate the truth

but embraces deep silence?

am I hungry for power, pelf and glory

or just want to script a sublime story?

what am I up to actually?

Am I too shy to tell life

that I cherish indulgences?

like any other girl

I too love to

twine hair strands into braids

passionately lick the last piece of cake

hide face with the hem of my shawl

when a stranger passes by?

what am I or who am I actually?