Sometimes I feel guilty
for all the stories I will never read
for the character who's wisdom I'll never know
for the books I leave untouched
as all these tales hold the authors heart
their beliefs and values they aspired to share
the world's they wished they lived in
the friends they wished they had
which I will now never know

I read books again and again,
the characters comfort me
as we grow close over time
their actions predictable
their thoughts always positive
their attitude unbeatable

I read books again and again,
I'm not afraid to say
that I love these people
imprinted on the page,
My time is spent
choosing to continue our journey
a decision they can not make themselves

For my friends in these words
they do not know me or know of me
that I observe them
commenting on their world
which I myself will never get to live in,
Even so with them as my vessel
I do try my best
by reading my books again and again.

My paintings come to life
Springing off the paper
Pulling their self in to the real world
that I pay to escape

dancing around my room
they leap and frolic
before my sleeping face and dormant eyes
my dreams full of colour
felling that my art is with me

If someone I knew were to find my poems
Would they laugh mockingly
knowing the words were about them
never sharing in their emotion

Or would they cry
seeing my true feelings
how much they reflect their own
could they understand the pain hidden in the words

Or would they not care
carrying on with their life after seeing my worst side
Ignoring me now they know I'm not perfect
That I'm not someone who acts rationally
in the face of emotions
Instead choosing to dress up my emotions
in pretty gowns and dresses
to try blend them into the beauty of my life

If someone I knew
were to read the words of my worst emotions
would they leave me

I sketch my face
The unusual silhouette created by my hair
Whispy pieces blowing in my face
Resting on my chubby cheeks
That do protect my lips graceful arch
My noses flat tip

I fill in the colour
My skin red as I blush
Mixed with my natural warm yellow tones
That hide beneath the surface

I wore no makeup
No foundation or bronzer
No concealer or highlighter
No lip gloss or eyeshadow
Bare skin looking back at me

I paint an image of my face
It does not look the same as the one I Invision
I wonder if I'm a bad artist
Or have never seen my true self before

The words I say feel fake
as they pour out my mouth,
a river of assurance
hiding a false facade

My days are filled
with hoping my mask never falls,
but it's glass anyway
that attempts to conceal my face

My cheeks rosey red
as I grind my teeth together,
a pit of worry in my stomach
turns my mind over

If I had a choice
Would I still be political
Would I still root for justice
equal opportunities for all

If I had a choice
Would I still care
Would I see the poverty
struggles of everyday people

If I had a choice
Would I still believe in everyone's right to a voice
Would I still support everyone's basic rights
If I was a rich straight man

But I'm not
So hypothetically it doesn't matter
Cause I am who I am now
And I'm not rich
And I'm not straight
And I'm not a man.