Thursday, June 2, 2011

rEal ?

Do you know that my secrets 
Are open in my nerves
Some entangled on face
Some superficially blue
But all verbally red in my traits
My picture , unclear and painted
Is still raw , because I have lived less , in years
And lived more , in instances
My annoyance , released with my ink
And my love , feeding my poem
My sanity , in my mistakes
And my judgement , in my denials
Maybe someday, I will be , for real to the world
For now I'm happy to exist , only in your story 

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