15. The Spy
I hide myself in a cocoon of normalcy,
a veneer impossibly thin
yet veiling efficiently the torment,
the unreasonable guilt.
I am a spy in my own life,
a substitute for myself,
playing a dangerous game of masquerade.
What if the me that is bound
in the closet of my mind
never returns?
2 comments:
Your writing is so personal, but still so touching to those of us reading. I hope that you keep copies of your poems, someday, when (or if ever) it hurts somewhat less to hold them in your hands. My heart aches for you.
Sending much love.
Tory
responding to your question from my blog...
yes i do find it to be less stressful even in my own emergencies...over the years you just learn to not get so worked up over the things you cannot control... Law enforcement also makes you very very cynical...and it's such ashame
love your blog...adding you to my bloglines...
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