Identity

My identity is unknown,

a friend for some,for some just an acquaintance,

for some a foe,for some a person with a dual personality,

for some a reason to smile,for some just another formality.

They conceptualize,they fantasize

my job is to please them

and be not what I am

be not who I want to be.

Enjoining me is what they do,unintentional it may be

following it is what I do,avoiding the bone of contention

all content is what they get,

when I adumbrate my illustration.

 I trust them though, ripping off my soul to them

elucidating my emotions,there they see me standing,

all I clamor from them

is a little air of understanding.

Who am I?

The question remains the same.

I am lost in them and they call me insane,

discontentment is all I receive,and nothing goes well in the end.

Lingering for that day is all i can be,

where they see the palpable self

and love me for what I am

not for what they want me to be.