You think you can read me and know who I am.
In fact you know nothing of sorts; where I stand...
...is far from your reaching. I'm sorry but, no.
You are a lost cry from my truth, that's just so.
I weep for you gently and laugh till my sides
become sore and I'll tell you intricate lies...
...of what I am thinking and what you can have
to know me but I keep enough. You go mad...
...to find a solution to keep me at bay.
My tell tale illusions aren't going away.
So why do I tease you with things that aren't true?
It's only because I am me and not you.
Copyright 01-31-2009 Sarah Sisson
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's only because I am me and not you, fact. nice poem dear