Am I?

Am I from some endless tunnel of people,
lost like I am now?
Past lives that never lived
Struggled yet died in vain?
Am I some passerby on the street,
Ignoring the honks, with the noise
from my head? Or am I the
one who sounds the siren behind you?
or maybe the mad genius, so afraid
of the world he never set foot on
Keeping himself for himself,with
his equations and reagents as friends?
or the writer with his proses
preaching love and happiness with
his shattered heart held beneath
his left velvet jacket?
or the pitiful young bard
with his songs, yet unsung
to the earth and above it
will his music take flight?

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