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Wardrobes and Masquerades.

Are you still
who you were?
Do you contain
who you will be:

are you a seed incubating
your entelechy?
Are you fate unfolding,
destiny playing out,
or do you have the will

to write
your own part,
make the requisite,
existential veil
form-fitting,

make your own way?

And just who the fuck
are you now
beyond who and what
you pretend to be:

the original face
that hides
behind all your warped
wardrobes and masquerades?

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