What Am I?

You know my face?

The one that smiles all the time?

I'm not exactly sure it's real.

The smile,

For some reason,

Comes so easily.

But I'll let you in on

A secret.

I don't feel it.

The smile is

Eternally fragile.

One false move

And it'll crack.

But I keep it up

Anyway.

For my family.

For my friends.

But inside

I'm screaming.

I can feel a piece

Of me floating away.

And it's driving me crazy

Because I can't understand it.

I don't know why I'm sad

And can't cry.

Or why I'm angry

And I can't scream.

I don't understand myself

Or my heart.

Sometimes I feel numb…

I can't cry, smile, shout, or laugh.

I'm simply there.

And I want to

I want to know why my smile

Isn't real.

Why my tears don't exist.

Why my anger doesn't have a voice.

Am I hollow?

Incapable of feeling, bleeding.

Simply a shell to whither away

With the passage of time.

I want to understand

Why I can't be moved by a tragic story.

And why an exciting discovery

Doesn't affect me.

Am I frozen?

Am I hollow?

Can I not feel?

Am I even human?


I wrote this poem last year, around May. We're compiling a poetry portfolio in English so I typed it up and thought that I might as well post it up here. Tell me what you think. Ciao!

Meilin