Enigma

Who has the right to question me?
Who I am, What I’m about, What I believe?
I am what many can find to imagine hopes and dreams
Only I can question cause no one can illustrate a picture I see

I find myself along a trail walking
Finding bits of character in shrubs and lying in scattered in mud
Finding myself that is, discovering minor features that prove to be shocking
In turmoil, my body rejects the pieces like bad blood.

Who am I then! ... I asked?
If what I find is not true and subdued?..
No response...just silence in the air that hardly blew
An itch on my face, it was then I pulled from it a mask

This mask was a lie and from it I scraped the dirt and residue
Thinking this is was me...So tell who it is that I'm pretending to be
It was then I replace the pieces and my body was anew
Truth lies beneath the darkest layer, buried down like the roots of a tree

Sadly enough the mask is regenerative
Coming right back over what seemed to be destined
I am Gemini so I really split in two, and one side is just a sedative
So its understandable that my actions and being itself may be questioned

My personality is an enigma
A thing of puzzles and unexplainable occurrence
Contradictory maybe, but made to be right like alpha and omega
So that leaves me to see and recognize who I am I don’t need reassurance

Now to the latter fact, I’m more understood
I must ask myself and others a crossroad question I once had
Am I the good guy, changing and turning bad
Or bad guy who was only trying to be good?


Definition Of Nice
Tyrone Alcorn