Some days, I feel like Lucifer-

Outspoken and misunderstood.

Other days, I feel like Jesus.

Self-sacrificing and all-forgiving.

Somehow, though,

I don’t ever feel like me.

 

I am constantly hiding behind metaphors

And putting a name on myself, which is not my own.

 

I lie so much.

 

I say that I am naked on the page.

Here, I claim, I am vulnerable and true.

These are lies.

I shield myself with a pen and paper.

The blinking cursor is my mask.

My poetry is feelings that I don’t understand.

It is things that have not yet happened.

And dreams that nobody has dreamt.

 

I write to burry the truth that I am.

 

I do not tell the truth with my poetry.

I do not show you me with my poetry.

I do not know who I am.

 

I am not my poetry.