Too keep one honest,
As much as one can face,
A poet uses irony
To offset this.

The words told me
What I really think of me.
There is no place to hide
In a Hello world
I can't say I'm fantastic,
Only an utterance of many
Things I could borrow from
Silence.

At the forefront I can read the poetry
I write, and face my true mirror, the inner works of me
Cascaded by bold words.
Hypothesis me, words equally
Distributed
And the work is an unfinished verse,
And sometimes I can't face myself,
The words escape me.