The Ego

A poem regarding the ego, the sap of the soul.

The Ego

I am a mason,
a master of stone.
Building walls around me,
to guard my insecure home.

I never really knew myself,
or my true capabilities,
just an undeniable instinct
to hide vulnerabilities.

Call it survival
or adaptation.
But the truth is
its personal infatuation.

To exercise my mind,
to make everything a bit clearer.
I laugh at your flaws
and grin in the mirror.

As I continue to build these walls
which grow taller every year
I sometimes wonder
how it even got here.

When I was young
Everything seem genuine
Its a wonder how
my disposition is still sanguine.

Or so I tell myself.