Who are you
The one that I apparently want to impress
Who am I
And why do I need to have you think of me
as something I know I’m not
When will this impulse have a direction
greater than feeding a starving ego
How will I get there
What is there to say from that place
Is it as profound as my psyche wants it to be
If I do get there, will I then recognize having arrived
Better not to ask
But to let whatever state I find myself in express
Possibly to the dismay of who I see myself as
But who I “see myself as”, is who I want you to see
which may not be who I really know that I am
If I am to write, these must happen
I must be honest with myself, and with you
I must eliminate the fear of being known
I must forgive myself for being me
Which really shouldn’t be that difficult
considering that you exist only in my imagination
Why should I care what you think
You’re me, aren’t you
Aha!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
fine love, better not to say more, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.