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.