Identity

A russian doll experience is life in a nutshell. Beneath each facade a new persona lies. Which is real and how are we to tell? The true image defining our lives.

 

 

 

My face crumbles

My hands urgently reach up in frantic reflex

Preserve the façade

 

With scraps of pride and sticky back plastic I try to hold it together

It doesn’t take

Dropping pathetically to the ground like the used skin of a snake

 

Without purpose now

My skin is hot

Hot and raw as it buckles beneath the elements unsheathed

 

My eyes water and bubble

Struggling to adjust

My smile is odd and askew, my gaze unfocused and un-calibrated

 

Gradually normality returns

The cracks recede

This is my real face now

 

Definitive identity attained at last

No more layers to be peeled

But what’s this?

 

…..  A crack emerges .....

 

 

 

Author's Note

Hi

Thank you for reading.
All comments and reviews gratefully accepted below.

BP

Reviews

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

I quite like this one. Reminded me of a piece I wrote called "Rising", which was essentially referring to the way that throughout our lives we die (or change) and are reborn as something slightly new and different. Each of these little deaths, or cracking of facades, reveal yet another aspect of our eternal, emotional, spiritual selves. You have written this with so much emotion and amazing imagery, I felt the words and the meaning behind them fully and freely. Well done.

[Brett Pritchard]

Thanks. Really glad you appreciated the piece, and thank you for the kind review.

BP

[Jack...]

Very cool my friend. Just when we think we have it all ironed out a new wrinkle appears. Nice one.

[Brett Pritchard]

That's right... Ah the old quest for identity rages on forever more it seems.
At what point in our lives can we honestly say we are THE person?

Thanks for reviewing Jack. 😉

BP