I write with a pen name.
Like a child at play, I hide.
No one can say my words are lame,
If they don’t know I’m Jekyll, and they’re reading Hyde.
Never knowing that we are one.
Behind my nom de plume,
I weave stories freely, and for fun.
To be found out would be my doom.
Should embarrassment take me,
My face would burn red,
As the words that I let free
Crashed upon my head.