• You see,
    There are four sides to me,
    But what you see,
    Is one.

    The other three sides,
    Hidden from the world
    Only known to me
    Only known to those I let know.

    These four sides become me,
    For they are me,
    Yet only a fourth of what I really am.
    What am I?

    I want the other three to be free,
    To feel a sensation
    To feel the fascination
    That is to live.

    I need direction to perfection,
    A mold to the world,
    An eye to see the sky,
    Help to my helplessness.

    My body is cold,
    For without the other three
    I am nothing
    But a fly in the cold forest.

    This body is empty,
    My four souls mix inside
    But this body lets one free.
    What am I?