Branching Illusions of your Soul,
My Limbo stands there waiting to be Fetched-
Many Appearances to choose from,
Many Triggers to perceive.

There are infinite possibilities,
Infinite Souls, that you can be,
But, you choose to be you-
What difference does it make?
I’m still here, waiting to be fetched.

The Faces you hire, for your puppetry,
Leaving me Raw and Unrefined-
You choose your Triggers, like a Buffet Platter.

O Poor Thee, Little do you know,
That I feed you, chained and constrained !