Who are you?

The question is hanging
Like Damocles’ sword
Above my head
I don’t feel like a girl
Do I look like a boy?
I’m asking you
When you want to know

        Who are you?

Reducing myself to the obvious
To the recognizable
Is that
Who I am?
My answer to that question
Just plain confirmation
To the proposition
Of the one
Who wants to know
And does he really want to know
Or does he just want being right
In his assumption?

        Who are you?

Do you really want to know?
Then you are asking
About my inner self
That’s hidden from the eye
Not about my outer one
The mask
The shell
We all put on

        Who are you?

Who would ever
Honestly and truthfully
Answer that question?

Is it a catalogue of favourite activities?
Is it a manual of my reactions in certain circumstances?

        Who are you?

Do you want to know a name?
It’s easy to tell:
It’s written in my ID

Do you want to know a size?
It’s likewise easy to tell:
There wasn’t much change since my age of twelve

Do you want to know the colour of my eyes?
Just look at me
The main colour might be blue
(But we can discuss that)

Do you want to know
My definitions on aspects of strife?

Do you want to know
My philosophy of human life?

        Who are you?

Such an easy question
Open and honest
But where is the answer?
I’m still searching
For words
For emotions
For actions
For all the little pieces
Of my personality

        Who are you?

There is no simple answer
And we won’t ever know
But at the end of the day
It comes down to this:
I’m a man

        Who are you?

I’m a man

What is a man?

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        © Dominik Alexander / 2020