the many sides of me

tumbling down, to the bottom of the hollow,

where nothing is such that can distract

me, finding myself surrounded by

my many sides: polar, dual, multilingual,

.

I meet up, with all my fragments at once,

so many, diverse, contradicting, insane,

and I discern, how complicated I am,

the whole lot I do, comes from them

.

acting it out for me, all these different traits,

dwelling in the same flesh, blood and bones,

combating for and against each other,

in a conflict of their impeccability and worth,

.

wanting to be an effective voice in my deeds,

I can not sprint away from them, from

these apparitions brought up within me,

sustaining inside me, being a part of me,

.

something I could do is assemble them,

into a single piece: befuddled, messed up,

ridiculous, dumb, strangled by the knots

of the properties tied of each into a bundle,

.

or I could arrange them in a queue,

beckoning the one I need at a moment,

restraining others, by my craft, from disrupting,

and invading the progressions of my mind,

.

but I doubt it would work out, for I am but

a slave to my instincts, and not the ruler,

and that is why it happens, that I get entombed

into doubts, fighting off with my identity, with myself

.

Well, this is the poem for 5 November for NaBloPoMo. I have also joined up with Rarasaur‘s team, Nano Poblano, as I venture into posting thirty poems in thirty days.

Also, I am linking it up with the Trifecta challenge, where we have been asked to use the word, craft, referring to the skill in deceiving to gain an end.

Image source