Who Am I?

Who am I?

This is what I asked myself at first.

Lying on the cold, hard floor,

With an insatiable thirst.

I get up to see where I am,

A small, cramped place, a crypt perhaps.

No memory of name or identity,

I think of it at first as a minor memory lapse.

On the plaque, it is written,

“Here lie the remains of Dr. Domingo de Guzman.”

I ask myself if that is me,

Because I feel like I have heard the name of that man.

It must be my name, I tell myself.

My skin is as cold as the stone floor, with no pulse

To feel any heartbeat, if I still had one.

Otherwise I’d do something on impulse.

What is this sudden pain?

A piercing feeling, with a sudden twist in my guts.

I’m not sure if I can take it any longer,

For it feels like a death of a thousand cuts.

But with great pain comes a sudden boon,

An influx of strength, coursing through my veins!

Truly something that is incredible,

A great reward after all those strains.

I exit the little room,

And find a spacious bedroom with a vanity mirror.

I approach the drawer to look at myself,

And see if I can make things clearer.

“Egad!” I exclaim to myself.

For I can no longer see my own reflection!

I fall down on the nearby bed from shock,

While looking at my own pale complexion.

I do not know what exactly I have become

As I close my eyes and ponder if I have been cursed.

But I still cannot understand this one feeling,

This insatiable, persisting thirst.

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1 Response to Who Am I?

  1. raerei says:

    oooooh – love the room.

    Like

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