Who am I

That's a question
That all need to figure out,
Who am I?

Not where am I from,
Nor who's child am I,
No. The answer sought
Is more visceral.
Precognitive.

Who am I?
Adam, say some
That guy, say others
Tall says most.

Yet how do they not see
These little describers are,
but a small part of me.
Parts of the whole,
for sure,
yet not close to the reality that
makes up me.

--

I want to scream, I want to cry
People around me,
acting like sheep.
Doing as told, living as told
Never thinking
Never dreaming.
How they lost their ideals,
their passions and reactions,
I'll never know.

--
Love is an ideal
Marriage is a reality
Hatred is a nightmare

--

In this life we live
There are no facts, no fortunes.
Only people
People and places
Places with people
How do so many people
Go and see the world
Yet fail to understand
How crucial they are.
Changes they could make
Dreams they could enable
Yet no