Confession of a Riddle
A riddle here, a riddle there
a little or a lot?
A labyrinth, when walking through,
will look like what it’s not.
Metaphors are standing guard,
disguising what you see.
Breadcrumbs placed to lead some,
to a door without a key.
Hyperbolic fodder placed
To throw some far off track.
Placed for the unworthy
who think not of coming back.
When some see the end in sight
the puzzle lacks one part.
You see, they used their mind
when they should have used their heart.
A confession is the answer
whereas the question is the key.
The open door confesses.
And then, we clearly see.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Confession of a Riddle by Bill Cantrell )
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