Who am I if not what people tell me to be?

What's the point, if not what everyone expects me to see?

I don't know who I am or why I'm here.

I have no purpose, I fear.

I'm a blank slate,

a blank canvas, an empty crate.

Paint me up

Fill me up

Make me what you want me to be.

Carve me up

Build me up

Make me like what you want to see.

But then what's left?

Nothing.