I am just a figment of your imagination,
What is in me is merely product of your creation,
A mere fabrication of your mind that conjures up things,
Then it takes wings and your opinion swings.
“Who am I?” , the answer will elude, the more you seek,
Am I good? Or Am I bad? Or Am I strong or just weak?
Am I unique in my own way? or just like anyone else?
Am I the real me? Or pretending to be someone else?
Is it the poetic me? Or is it the logical me?
Is it emotional me? Or is it the friendly me?
Is it the parent in me? Or is it a child in me?
Is it the perfection in me? Or is it the fault in me?
Is there any saintliness in me? Or a swindler in me?
Is there any goodness in me? Or just emptiness in me?
Is there a fighter in me? Or a coward in me?
Am I the genuine me? Or the fake pretense in me?
You can not figure out who is me anyway,
Can you peel off the layer of masks and know me someday?
What you think of me is just a conjecture of your mind,
Don’t form opinions and treat me just as one of the human kind.