What is “me”?

The ME, is like a collection of images,
a collection of memories,
a face which moves,
a body which changes.

No really, what is the “me”?
Is it a reflection of you?
Is it something quite free?
Is it even true?

Maybe my dreams are your life,
maybe my thoughts are your thoughts,
maybe what I see is what you dream,
maybe I am you and you are me?

What is the ME?
Are we all a big swarm without knowing it?
Are we all Gods, while we feel like losers?
Am I really myself most of the time?

I like what I hear after I finished a music track,
I like that words come out of my hands,
I like that people are opening up,
I like what is happening in the world.

Is that me?
Or am I just a robot programmed to think?
Is THAT me?
Or am I just a human who thinks he is programmed?

When I see you, I see me.
I don’t know, what you know.
When I see you, I feel me.
I don’t know, what you know.
When I meet you, I run away.
I don’t know, what you know.
When I talk to you,
I say what I think you know.
I don’t know, what you know.

Dreams scare me,
life scares me,
people scare me,
I scare the “me”.

What is “me”?
Am I real?
Is “me” real?
ME wants to be free.


Comment:

A “whatever” about “me” poem I just wrote because I felt like it.

It just came over “me” you could say.

Man I posted a lot of stuff lately…