Who, or what, or where I am in life,
Is a mystery whose answer I should know.
A mother, sister, friend, a good man's wife,
I am all of these, but yet I have to grow.
There is no way to state with perfect truth,
The person that is me, the pristine box
Of tricks, that reveals my basic worth.
I need a key to me, to open up that lock.
But if I dare to look inside, I may
Just learn a little more. Am I a rock
That stands against the world, or am I
A fragile flower that can only sway?
I am neither, I am both, I am the person - me.
I am the lover, friend, the one who cares so much.
I am, each moment, what you think you see.
I am myself, for me, for you, for all I hope to touch.