I’m not real.

I’m not real. Other people make me real. But when they leave, I’m not real anymore. I pretend to be real. I’ve worn many masks. Can’t one of them be real? The people are all gone now.

I was a lover.

I was a stepmom.

I was a friend.

I was a sister.

I was a daughter.

I was a person, when the people were there.

I’m alone now, and I don’t have a mask. I don’t have an identity. I have a soul, but no home.

They’re all gone now, and I’m not real again.