My deepest feelings and thoughts;
I put into words.
Intricately woven
into lines upon lines,
stanzas upon stanzas.

If I were to write poetry
for the rest of my life;
Then if I am old and gray,
everything will be stripped away.
Until I am stark naked, completely bare.

You could see everything
inside me, like a showcase.
All of my bones and nerves, singing,
tied together by words like a maze.

And if I were to say
what I'm made of,
I'm made of science,
history and poetry.

-m.b