They call me clark Kent

They call me clark Kent

But do they really know who I am?

Do they really care?

Are they really interested?

I don't think they really perceive.

No one really knows the true me.

The being that I really am.

I reflect aimlessly about my life.

Where is it going?

What is to become of me?

Has it yet arrived?

And I feel completely isolated.

Maybe they presume reason suppose they do.

Even then it doesn't matter.

I'm just myself.

They who say he's taciturn.

They don't know him.

I'm thunderous when I want to be.

But only when I want to.

Most times I scrutinize.

That's one rank I give myself.

Another is spent wondering.

Wondering about my future.

Will it last?

Is it already in the past?

My ambition is well underway.

I know I'll make it.

But is it all worth it?

Will it all be worth it?

I mean anything could happen.

Or not happen.

When I consider what was.

I feel no regrets.

I remember no bad no mistakes.

Only the just. 

These are the thoughts that linger.

My heart beats.

My head thinks.

Constantly.

Consistently.

I envision if I really am.

If I be gone.

Will anyone ever know?

That all my life.

Nothing seemed real.

And I'm still waiting for this to end.

To awaken and see life all anew.

All strange all wonderful.

But no.

But yes.

They call me clark Kent

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