Categories: Poetry

Self Made by Dawn Blanchfield

I am a made-up person
a construct
I was given a name,
a family,
and told to go live my life
a lie.

How many of us are there?
millions?
Without pasts. Without truths.
Not knowing who we are.
Robots.
Alien beings walking among you.
Not real.
We just disappear.

# # #

Dawn Blanchfield. I don’t write. In fact, words and I are barely on speaking terms! I don’t know what I’m doing here.Read more here: http://dawnblanchfield.com

Photo credit: Dawn Blanchfield

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