When you have put yourself on paper
A trickled siberitic self confessed
Scratched out all the falsehoods
Sat back and said 'yes!
This is me. How I am. How I was
All laid bare without question or pause
Because pause is the cause
Of untruths
When youth's
Laid bare with all its frailties
Pages of ages are
Laid out, warts and all
So that anyone can judge
Tut tut and nudge
Or a shock stifled
At some trifle
Of you laid bare
Like some winding stair
Running down to you're inner self
Marching them, marching them
Down to the shelf
Where you hold
More confessions printed in bold
For all to view
Triumphant you say
'And this is you! And you! And you! And you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem