DisFigured

All this craziness
Consuming my every hour
Sleeping or not,
Thinking or feeling.
And what do my
Instincts tell me?
Or have I been
Misreading them
All along?
If crazy means
Deranged, and deranged
Simply means disarranged-
That is me.
My mind is in chaos-
And I have been
Attempting to
Reorder it with names,
But with what results?
It's the small things
That take root inside-
That leave me jumbled
And disfigured,
Not myself at all;
And so I have the Names.
They split me up,
Calm me down,
Even if they sometimes
Confuse me even more.
At least I can
Look at them objectively,
Separate and analyze
Each one individually.
But are they individual?
Or are they really one?
Who am I, really?
Does anyone know?
Am I the same as
I've been all along?
Am I this face,
This expression upon it?
Am I even this name?
Or all of them?
Or none of them!
Am I broken?

Or only confused?
Perhaps I am the worst,
As I've feared all along.
Perhaps I am this face,
The one that is
Disfigured,
The one that has been
Changed and even
Manipulated into
A mask to hide behind.