Revision
So I've come to a conclusion,
Everything and body is an illusion.
Any sense can feel a tense delusion,
Not sure what's real--
I feel deep confusion.
So open, so crucial
So dangerous, so brutal.
The first page, the most truthful
Channels the first thought of its black-hearted author
Who debates so long, uncertainties feudal.
How do I fill it?
A single line, the wrong color to commit
No, no, wrong.
Rips out the paper--
With that beautiful line
So young and naive
Wondering what it did wrong
When it was just a judgement misjudged
And it was the right color
After all.
This poem is about:
Me