Persona

I is another
submerged within
masked under layers
shellacked to a luster.
The light hurts my eyes
accustomed to dark shadows
moving across the wall
in the closets down the hall.
The useless banter
of I, me, me, mine,
echoes in the hollows
of the back and forth chatter.
Lost in a maze
of plastic veneer
searching for Socrates
in a wilderness of mirrors.