Circuitous 'Me'

I think I am broken
and not in the way
that people don't work
but maybe that is part
of it, so much for
the words telling me
that I was fixed, or
that I was fine, or
that I was me, and
the problems were
just me, and my
broken imagination.

So see, what do
you want to know
about my life, and
about my past, and
about my soul, so
much so that I can
talk for days and
have told you nothing?

So why, why do you
ask these things which
shock me, paralyze
so quickly, and who
make me think I
may not be who you
think I am, or even
who I think I am?

Just as I am, and
who I have become
have I changed
enough to you,
for the the past to
throw your glare
towards this, me
the wonderful
spectacle, a circus
without the tent?