Black or white.
Mocking eyes
Dissect me.
Try to decide
Who I am
Try to decipher
My meaning.
My surface is a
Disorganized,
Tangled
Fusion.
Sometimes,
It is liberating
To be a conglomerate
Without shackles
That a single world creates.
It is also
An unattainable balance.
A balance that
Wobbles,
Collapses.
Wandering,
Stumbling
Through a whirling grey cloud
With pieces of my identity caught in a whirlwind,
Scraping me.
I try to grab them
To assemble an intricate tapestry.
They always escape me.
Now I realize,
My cloud is
Clarity,
Transparency.
My cloud is
Revealing,
Dazzling.
Evoking pride
In my identity.
Black and white.