Locked away in my room I stay,
All day, with a laptop resting upon my chest.
Writing poetry I never thought would be read.

Drinking herbal tea,
trying to hold onto my sanity.
Hoping no one knocks at the door,
to finally get a glimpse of me.

No one needs to witness me,
while my brain thinks of scenarios,
that most likely will never occur.


I'm just dreaming of the day,
when i will no longer be afraid of people knowing the real me.

When i can publish my works,
and drink my tea in a cute little coffee shop,
in downtown NYC.

Dreaming of a day,
when i can finally come out of "hiding".