So you may ask: who are you?
You little pixel on my screen,
You forever smiling girl from another world.
And I might reply: well, I am
I am the writer in pitch dark,
I am poetry and the words they never said,
I am an artist, who is scared of the word “art”,
I am stardust and sunlight, hopelessly in love with the moon.
And that I was,
Shadows, tears and romantic letters,
Coffee, makeup and styled hair,
A riddle with no solution,
A never ending conundrum.
But in the end, it is not
Who am I,
But who you think I am.
S.
