THEM

Thoughts of THEM make me question who I am.

The Audience

The Critic

The Observer.

What will They think of me?

Will They like it?

What kind of sneakers are They wearing?

and why are They so mean?

THEY

The fictitious construct

that limits my expression

of who I am.

Faceless

Nameless

Critical

Illusions

Watching over my every thought, every word.

What is it I desire?

What am I convinced They can give me?

Are They the part of me who desires to be loved?

or my fears of whether I’ll be accepted?

and if I am rejected, what does that say about me?

An echo that I can’t ignore.

While They are around, can I ever really be free?

Or am I a bound prisoner wrapped in the chains of Their opinions?

Does what You think of me define who I am?

If I let it.

Both the Prisoner and the Guard

The Criticized and the Critic

The Actor and the Audience

Both Observer and Observed

If They don’t exist, how can They free me?

When Their opinion becomes insignificant,

Then I am FREE.