Identity Amnesia

There you were, when we were together,
speaking to me like a teleprompter.
You think I am the star of your reality television,
yet it feels as if I’m just your pet.

I lost my person and became a chameleon.
I welcomed the colors of your voice
and adopted them into my disguise.
I trusted you, but now I’m just a clown.
Your clown. I should have figured.
The whole act was coordinated from the start,
yet the execution went straight for my neck.
I’m sorry for sticking it out like that.

Yet, remorse is what continues to bind us
across the pond.
You sit with the image of the skull as I do
—regretting it as I do.
Yet, you are not me.

So look.
Look at me.
Please, look at me.
Look at me so that you know.
That you know.
I am still alive.