I cannot see outside of me Just as I cannot see the other side of the other screen Or the person who might admire my words Or just how they might even appear to be
But this is fine and alright with me Because foresight flows most equally Both to and from the truth within Until such truth is know to me
And just as I might never see The person who reads my poetry There is something refreshing inside of me Like an inherent truth reminding me
That only the readers who I let see Will ever get a chance to be Within that certain sight in question First and foremost, as it appeared to me
This is life. This is me. This is the truth I hold in this moment. (: