I am.

  I am the one who plays with bricks of plastic.

The one who runs in the rain and takes cover when under the sun.
The one who sees everything as a new adventure.

  I am the one who waits for the one that never comes.
The boy who yells but is silent among the screams.
The boy that tries but always fails.

  I am the one that twists metal to make form.
The one who uses lead to sketch a story.
The one who uses ink to write a story.

 I am the one who lives in a broken family.
The one who is broken.
The one who is filled with rage.
The one that must move on.
The one that must let go.

  I am the one who watches stories be written.
The one who watches them end.

  I am the one who feels joy.
The one who feels fear.
The one who feels hate.

  I am the one who fears the stage.
The one who fears loss.

  I am the one behind the curtains.
The one who is lost.
The one who is forgotten.

  I am the one who regrets.
The one who wishes.
The one who wouldn't.
The one who couldn't.

  I am the one who questions whether i'm happy and if this is what i wanted.
The only one that can answer that in the end.