My identity

June 9, 2012
I speak three languages
Yet not one of them lets me truly express myself
I cannot show people who I really am
You, the reader, cannot comprehend the true meaning behind my writing

Not even my family, my flesh and blood, understands
They see only a fraction of myself

I am like a dot
So small you cannot even see if I am filled in or empty
I am a dot
On paper
On the ceiling
In a painting
On your shirt
You do not know my history or my purpose
All you know is that I am there
You can never understand me

I have no identity





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