I say I’m an unsolved mystery but
they say I’m an open book.
Perhaps I am… but I
earnestly try not to be.
With each new person I meet,
only time is my shield as I learn them
and they learn me. Yet even if we’re the best of friends,
there are some things about me that you’ll never see.
I feel wind-swept, like a sudden breeze.
Yet I am a single vine that grows from a wretched tree,
unable to wholly produce what I please because of
the fragile need to appease and pacify the needs
of everyone I meet.
Only so no one will truly see me…
I am the guy who sits alone,
hidden away , closed to the world.
I am the poet, daring to dream of
an utopia of words where I can escape to.
You are the stranger that sees my pain scattered
across my brow and you wave and pass me by,
too afraid to dive beyond the shallow essence of my being.
You are the coward who sits alone wondering if anyone will notice your pain
yet forgetting about the pains and fervent hurts of others who need to see care.
Sheltered by oblivion’s glare, you are the stranger that I need
to share these harbored feelings with.
I feel wind-swept, like a sudden breeze,
yet no one sees my true identity.
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