I search for myself,

I should not be so hard to find,

But I look in a glass cloudy and scratched.

I should know my own reflection,

But still I find no familiar,

Expected expressions or complexion.

Scars are there I don’t know,

A settled peace I did not earn.

But still I am a bottomless well of mystery.

I tire of wanting to understand.

Then I comfort myself with rest from worrying,

And remember what matters is,

Who I am to those around me.