Surface

It scares me,
the Surface.

Its the first look,
the beginning thought,
everything made up.
....
looking to be,
as what it is naught.
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The Surface,
it defines me.

It is the very etcha-sketch,
in which my life is based,
the epitome of my race.
...
sounds all around,
as if my disgrace.
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Its my Barrier,
the Surface.

It is like a mask,
sheltering the inside,
hiding my simple side.
...
like a whirlpool funnel,
it makes me seem so subtle.
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The Surface,
it displays me.

All about my life,
mirrors lack the truth to tell,
what I really am.
...
late at night,
i am not Sam.