myself ?

no one really knows me
i don't begin to know myself
artist, teacher, poet, friend, fraud
so many facets, which are illusion
am i real or just mirrors and smoke
is there true depth or empty shell
projecting others beliefs living their expectations
funny outrageous and quick or is that the trick
a sleight of hand a mirrored illusion
no idea whatni want to do
stuck nowhere suspended in midair
empty and barren inside and out
never truly finding my niche
talking the talk faking the walk
contempt for myself and those i fool
a frightened child or an ancient soul
slaying myself daily yet never at peace
on and on the vicious cycle with nary a sign of relief