I am free to feel, free to kneel,
To talk to god, who helps me peel the layers of paint,
I piled on my skin,
when all I wanted was to cover my sins.
As time went by, the paint did dry,
and before I knew it I was encased in lies.
One day when I woke, I looked in the mirror to find,
that I had quite nearly lost my mind all of this time.
I thought no one could see, because of the layers protecting me.
That I was a fake, a phony, a farce, my feelings sparse,
But when I opened my eyes and gazed at my reflection,
I saw indeed I had no protection.
The paint which I thought was covering me was not paint at all,
But was hate you see, and everyone knows that hate is transparent,
It’s clear and obvious and ever present.
So while I thought I was putting one over,
I was wrong, I did soon discover.
Everyone knew just exactly how I felt,
because it was painted all over myself.
Next time I’ll remember, when I’m tempted to try,
that there is no such thing as living a lie.
Because with lies come hate, and everyone knows,
Hate is as transparent as the wind when its blows…..
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (free by Christine Petsinger )
- I had shied away, hasmukh amathalal
- Shoemaker, Gaurav Juyal
- King Serpentine, Gaurav Juyal
- The clouds and the child, Thampi KEE
- To My Princess, Abekah Emmanuel
- Those sensations تلك الاحاسيس, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- The God gives, hasmukh amathalal
- Small fishes, Melikhaya Zagagana
- When you're old, JJ Evendon
- The story of the soap, Melikhaya Zagagana
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