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Tuesday, September 28, 2010

What is it Like? a poem

What is it Like?


What is it like?
You want to ask,
To wear so many faces
Like a costume and mask?

The things I don’t know,
The memories they show,
Make living with it,
Feel like shit.

Memory is tricky,
Feelings are strange,
They’re them, and they’re me,
Kind of an inner exchange.

We feel like we’re faking,
Others time we are taking,
We don’t need to pretend,
We made them up in the end.

So we wonder is this real,
All of these people I wear?
The ritual horrors of childhood
They came to share.

Always there have been
Those around, sort of kin,
With people inside
That they also hide.

How we find one another
Is the same as with magnets.
We sort of clump together,
We, the wounded sets.

Fist you ask the question,
Then say it is all suggestion.
You just will not see
All the pieces of me.

This is not fun for me.
It is not fun for anyone one.
Tell me why you think
I would create for fun?

In essence the mind did
Create the others in my kid
To protect me from pain
I could not contain.

I have wanted to blow them
Out of my head with a bullet.
I want to bleed them from me.
They just want an outlet.

Years of being me when they
Want recognition one day
Has made them all celebrate
Being free even though it’s late.

You don’t have to believe me
But if you think it’s shit,
Don’t ask me to tell you
About it one little bit!

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