wishing I was a comet
"Who am I?"
We all ask this
At one time or another
Sometimes this answer comes swiftly
Easily based on my sense of self
"Who am I to them?"
That's a tough question
I swirl around the question
Like a planet in orbit
Hoping I can become a comet
Break free from painful confusion
Because the Sun is doesn't answer
It's a taciturn "them" that wont say
Even if I ask directly
So I live comfortable in myself
But uncomfortable in the world.