Writing the words fakes my freedom.
Never to be spoken through my own lips.
With no face to remember.
Who am I to those who read my words?
I feel safe in the security of mystery.
In the unknown.
With no face a mask is unnecessary.
What is the worth of words from someone with no credit?
No presence.
No identity.
For those who are too terrified to be of knowledge.
No acknowledgment is needed.
YOU ARE READING
Dizzy to the Point of Exhaustion
PoetryPoems. I know. I am incredibly deep and see meaning in everything. Jokes. Hopefully this doesn't suck. warning: some of these poems definitely kinda suck... oops! #881 in poetry March 4th, 2017👀 #463 in poetry March 9th, 2017😮 #348 in poetry Ma...
