God.

Though expressing emotions was never my forte, I've mastered the art of masking them away, People doubt my authenticity and call me a fake, But little do they know, it's all but a mistake. The world I was born into was in chaos and screams In hopes of seeking aid, I trusted in their dreams, But they lent no ears or barely gave me a glance, Turning a blind eye to my despair at every chance. I am an enigma, with no identity of my own, Yet, I don't need earthly possessions to make me come alive and grown, For I am not human, but an entity made of divine sand, Not in need of smoking rose petals or of any man's command. I've drifted away from Salem's promised land, They call me a disgrace but, indeed, I am a person of grace, A world that fails to embrace this unique space, An existence that is often forgotten, completely misplaced. How ironic that such a beautiful world, Could be tainted and marred, forever unfurled, But I remain that enigma, forever special and unique, A person that this world cannot and will not critique.