I, me, myself

I do not know who I am.
I seem to be an uneven mix
Of so many persons;
Someone’s daughter
(Though that person
Is now, several years,
In the past tense)
Someone’s sister
(Also in the past)
A friend to several people,
The wife of one man
To whom I gave several decades
Before that, too
Slipped into the past.
I am the butt of many jokes
The object of scorn to many;
Yet others regard me with affection.
I too have given my heart,
For life:
I am the mother of one,
The mother-in-law of one,
And the grandmother of two.
I feel, though, that sometimes
One person in me predominates
Over the others.
What I would like to be
Is a complete person:
An amalgam, a balanced mix
Of these people who live
And breathe within me.
But I seem to be more
Like a Ferris wheel
Where first one person,
And then another
Rise to the top, and the others
Sink below into unheeded
Oblivion. Where is the singer?
The theatre critic? The writer?
The quizzer? The lover of languages?
Where am I? Who am I?
I am mixed, indeed…and do not know.

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