I sit sometimes and write some thoughts
and let my insides out
The hope that while I write
I unlock what life's about
But answers won't reveal themselves
they're wearing a disguise
My words can't seem to undress their mask
or see beneath their cries
So why, pray-tell, can I not find its truth?
Immune to words and thoughts?
Is my day truly better
when the answers can't be caught?
Their is only one answer that I have learned
And it consoles me between the lines
Is if life's secrets become unlocked
there'd be nothing left to find
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice piece of work, John Anderson. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks