Who Are You?

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Who are you?
Are you proud of what you've become?
Proud of the cynide filled bronchi you call lungs
Nicotine in your veins that with every rhythmical pump sing
CANCER
And sure everything causes cancer, but you seduce it.
You put on lacy red lingerie, that Chanel number nine and sing it some Otis Redding

Are you proud that you've become the complete opposite of what your mother raised you to be?
Does that make you happy?
Does it fill you with glee?

Are you pleased with yourself?
The fact that your idea of fun involves being intoxicated beyond self recognition
and not being able to recall the very events which you believe were a "good time"

Are you happy at the girl who looks at you in the mirror?
Do you see yourself and think
"Aah...  this is what I aspired to be"
Does the girl who looks back at you smile from the inside out?

Or does she chide, look at you with discontent, make you feel inadequate because even though you look at her, she sees right through you
Past the facade, your charade
That little show you put on and call
"You"

I'll ask again
Are you proud of what you've become?
Proud that you've diluted the essence of you so it tastes better to your peers that you've lost yourself trying to get along with others
That if the real you walked into a room, no one would recognize her
That you wouldn't know where to even begin finding "yourself "

Let me ask you one more time
Who are you?
By: | Ndalwentle Makunga |

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