The Real Me
Try to understand that I’m flesh and blood. I breathe, cry, laugh and bleed.
My existence isn’t in your hand; I’m here against you and everyone who doesn’t want to hear.
My words are not a poem, nor an article or something amusing to see. My words are only for those who really can read and feel; feel all the pain that surrounding me, all those unshed tears that I always keep.
You think you know me well, while your knowledge is based upon the outside, not what’s been hidden inside of me.
<Deleted User> (4744)
Mon 16th Jun 2008 13:25
Can we really know a person through the poetry they write? Can we map out their lives? I say no. Try it with me and I'd end up a wife beating, husband beating, cross dressing, barefooted child who smells distictly of fish floating in a cloud with both parents dead morning a child killed in a car accident. Then some of what I write is personal experience the problem for a reader is spotting which is which. So even if you can really read and feel, can you know the person behind the poet? Where does the rest come from? .... flashes I get when I touch upon anothers energy. Thank you for making me think.