Platonic Idiosyncrasies
Hold me close
enough our atoms touch
when my subatomic particles
are shaking
in fear of frustration
of becoming what I am.
Hold me my dear
when I am all alone
without anyone
but my own loud whispers
breaking me from
the inside.
Addressed to me,
myself,
I.
Do not answer.
I cannot hold
this being of
light, sound, living.
This poem is about:
Me
My community
My country
Our world